


Pitch Perfect: Reloaded

by Britishgal



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Kidnapped!Beca, Mercenary!Chloe, Slowburn!Bechloe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-07 13:57:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 82,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14082450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Britishgal/pseuds/Britishgal
Summary: Beca finds herself at the mercy of a mysterious gun-for-hire, otherwise known as Chloe Beale, who claims that she needs her dad for his important research. Problem is, she has no idea where her dad could have gone... But at least now Beca has an idea of why he decided to skip dinner with her tonight.Inspo courtesy of a damn flawless Tumblr AU.





	1. The Bitch with the Gun

#  The Bitch with the Gun

###  Chapter 1

Chloe sighs as she absent-mindely holds up and reloads her 1911, reveling in the pleasant sound it makes as she does so. She doesn't forget to re-inspect the sight-lines and grip afterward. Not that she was planning on using the gun, in cases like this one, it was usually just good for scare mongering. Twisting the piece in her hand she watches gleefully as the sun catches the barrel’s brilliant silver metal. Beautiful. Chloe grins from ear to ear, then pauses her admiration for a second. She lowers her weapon; her hand quietly closing around its grip and listens to the dead air. Had she heard metal scraping from behind her? Chloe gives it another second.

There’s nothing. Her eyes narrow.

                                                                 Huh.

Oh well, back to organizing her stuff. Carrying the pistols around with her on missions like these always made Chloe think of Bree. The duel-set of Ruger's were defo one of the blonde's more thoughtful gifts to her over the years, but there were many other strong contenders that also vied for position of her personal favourite. There was the heavy-duty jungle knife of course, and the compact spare parachute was also pretty dope, but nah. The cold and magnificent twins were something special. Perhaps it was their mock-ivory grips. They really gave the weapons an element of class. Classic Aubs. She really _got_ Chloe y’know? The metal scraping. Chloe’s eyes widen, her pupils dilate. Chloe whirls round, gun aimed straight at the girl sitting across the room. All this a split second after she hears it again.

Beca freezes. Well, "freezes" despite being unable to move anyhow, what with being tied to a chair and all. This is totally how she imagined her Saturday evening to have gone. Perfectly , _SO_ perfectly. She wants to scream in frustration but it’s pretty hard to yell when you’ve got a bunch of tape strapped across your mouth. She had tried to yell a couple of hours ago, before this asshole had knocked her out for it. Speaking of, god her head hurt.

“Don’t move.”

That had to be a joke, right? The stunningly attractive blonde from last night was now pointing a gun at her head of course she wasn’t moving. Hell, if anything Beca wishes she could be stiller. She can see the blonde is dead serious though: the blue eyes trained on her are reading colder than the Antarctic tundra. No heart and clearly no soul either, awesome! This was a great situation for her, Beca was having a blast! So yeah, Beca doesn’t move as per her captor’s wish. It’s awkward. They stare at each other for what seems like some time, before the distrustful stare the woman is giving her finally begins to weaken. But that doesn’t stop Beca rolling her eyes at her words when the blonde isn’t looking. So cliche. Her eyes land somehow on a carpet stain by her feet. She cocks her head to the side in question. The heavily mushed patch of grey, against the moss-coloured floor, looked vaguely like Italy. Wow, Beca'd been reduced to cloud spotting on a fucking hotel room floor. That said many things about the state of her sanity. It was also an oh-so-hygienic discovery. Her dad really knew how to pick ’em. Then without really thinking, she does the most Beca thing imaginable and audibly huffs. This moldy-ass hotel, and this stupid fucked-up scenario, god it was straight out of one of those movies Jesse would have made her watch. How the fuck she was supposed to move was anyone’s guess!  _Yeah,_ she was still salty about that! She begins to realize her dumb mistake of expressing emotion when she suddenly feels chillingly cold metal pressed roughly against her forehead.

The bitch with the gun speaks.

“You know, I _really_ don’t want to be in this situation with you either! It would all be much easier, if the ransom deadline was one day away, and not two.” The kidnapper snaps. “But- your dad bailed on you. I mean not just on you, on US. So now we to have ransom you, to get to him. It’s just business.”

She says it in such a resigned manner and assumes Beca has any idea why the hell they’d want her dad. Like she’d know. Whomever the ‘us’ was, that the blonde was referring too, they clearly had not looked into the Mitchell families’ distraught past too much. She had to get this tape off and explain that last night was going to be the first time she had seen her dad in six months. Then maybe this psychopath would let her go. Honestly if she had just been given the chance to explain this at the beginning, before this asshole had barged into Beca’s room and decided to knock her out without any explanation,  then this whole scenario could’ve been avoided.

“Plus, hostages are so needy. You always try to escape and stuff. Not that you could, cuz you’re just a college student."

 _Ex-college student._ Beca was a recent millennial graduate with no promising job offers ahead of her.

"I’m talking more about other mercenary-types here. I mean clearly, you can’t get out of my military knots.”

The merc laughs, she actually laughs, and Beca thinks its to musical for someone in the business of ransoming people. “Guess the noise I heard earlier was me being paranoid.”

The woman shoves her gun back into its shoulder holster. Then smiles that smug-ass grin that Beca just wants to punch her in the face for immediately. It’s the same jerky one she used at the bar last night. All fake charming and heart-melty, jeez what an asshole.

“Now, if I remove your tape, are you going to scream again?”

Beca made no promises.

“Because we have 36 hours to go, and if your daddy doesn’t come back that means we’ve gotta torture you.”

Again, she says it so manner-of-factly it’s pretty scary. Beca tries not to flinch away as the other woman’s hands touch her face. Which isn't an easy thing to do when your captor has just threatened you with torture. Upsettingly, she notices the merc's hands are pleasantly soft before blondie rips her masking tape away. HOLY-FUCK!

“Whatthefuckdude!” Beca gasps. “ _OW!_ ”

Ignoring her, the blonde scrunches up the tape, then turning from her successfully dunks it into the nearby bin in one perfect shot.

“Nice.” Her captor beams. Beca watches her casually stroll back to the fold up bed and then fall onto the hotel mattress. Nonchalant, she crosses her legs and leans back on her arms, and stares bored up at the ceiling. All infuriatingly calmly for a criminal mastermind. Beca scoffs. Just like that, she could forget Beca's existence so suddenly. _Deep breath Mitchell._ She thinks. It’s probably best to keep the sarcasm to a low to avoid having a gun pressed to her temple again. She just has to swallow her pride. Just a little. She can already feel a primal resistance to the idea swelling in her belly. And exhale. Acceptance.

“Okay. First of all, _who are you?_ Second of all, I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding here.”

Beca says. Blondie looks at her like she’s an idiot. A vibe Beca is starting to get a little too used receiving from her actually.

“Oh, there’s no misunderstanding. You’re Beca Ann Mitchell right?”

Beca sputters.

“I- yeah.”

She really hates it when people use her middle name.

“Good. My people aren’t usually ones to fuck up on intel. That being said I must admit, I did steel your driver’s licence yesterday for my own confirmation.”

Trust issues and also she’s a thief! Add that to the list of the many many fucked up things Beca had so far noted about this psychopath.

 “YOU STOLE MY ID?” Beca yells.

So much for the keeping it cool to avoid having a gun placed to your temple mantra, that was pretty quick to go. The hit-woman shrugs.

“Not my fault you look under 21 and couldn’t order a drink after.” Blondie hums.

 _After?_ What did she mean by after? It might be the delay from the concussion she’s pretty sure she now has, but her eventually her brain’s neurons start to fire again. Beca groans. She would groan into her hands, but you know, they were pretty tied up at the moment (No pun intended). So instead she just groans into the void of the bedroom when it all comes back to her. The bar. Fuck. At the bar last night, FUCK.

“Oh my god, you stole it when you offered to buy me a drink.”

“What, did you think that I was flirting with you for no reason?”

Beca struggles to put the lid back on her boiling temperament, _but she would_ , she damn well would. No way was Blondie going to beat her with a blow that cheap. At least Beca knew now, she really _was_ facing a total asshole. Beca remembered it all. Obviously, she’d seen her before today’s monumental crap-stain of a day. Was it still the same day? It was impossible to tell facing away from the curtains in this artificial-ass lighting. Time for a recap: the blonde had hit on her _hard_ when Beca had gotten absolutely trashed at the hotel bar last night. Just the thought of meeting her dad for a meal that evening had Beca turning to the nearest source of booze, and that shit was sure as hell cheaper than her suites mini-fridge. Wait a minute… she noticed the tiny empty bottles of vodka on the side table. SON OF A-

“Yoo-hoo Beca? Anyone in there?”

She’s about to round on her assailant for the mini-fridge exploitation but has to pause. Beca doubts the woman would be very sympathetic to the burst of pain she just felt rocket through her skull. Or too the extra charges she was now going to have to face on her hotel bill. Anyway, post the drinks, post the... _hitting-on-her_ incident. Skipping the details of that _entirely_ , because ashamedly, Beca had been very tempted to take her up on her offer at the time; and the only thing that had stopped her, was that Beca was still getting over Jesse- She swallows, the memory of her ex-boyfriend and their recent break-up still fresh in her mind. ...Then her dad had failed to show up to dinner, that was the next thing. That was the next event, and Beca had returned to the bar afterward, obviously, and then suddenly it was after midnight. So, she'd returned to her bedroom, where rather undramatically she'd fallen asleep. But next, was the fucking _awesome_ event there was at like five AM where she'd woken up and she'd been fucking kidnapped!  _KIDNAPPED!!!_ Could this day truly get any worse? Possibly, yes, there was still the very real chance she might die. Beca internally sighs, and decides to swallow down all the agony, turning her what now seemed like a petty cry of complaint into a cough last second.

“Sorry I- everything’s still a little bit fuzzy from where you hit me in the head.”

Blondie rolls her eyes.

“Don’t tell me you have concussion from _one_ pistol-whip.”

Beca honestly should’ve guessed a lack of empathy was part of the package deal that came with a hit-woman. Why should she have expected anything else? Still her coldness was a little rude.

“Sorry I’ve never been beaten by the butt of a gun before. I’ll put ‘toughen up skull’ on my to-do list.”

Beca retorts.

Blondie looks almost amused by that one. Beca shouldn’t be so proud of herself, but she did just make a hardened criminal almost smile using her sarcasm. A weird testament to her abilities, but Beca will take it none-the-less. 

“Put 'toughen-up-skull' that on there along with ‘make vending machine order’. You like Wotzits right? Cheese puffs? That and cereal bars from the vending machine outside is your menu for the next thirty-six hours.”

“What, no homemade sandwiches?”

Beca can almost sense another almost smile on the edges of Blondie's mouth.

“You know, one day that sarcastic mouth of yours is going to get you killed.”

Beca gives the widest, fakest smile she can muster as the blonde walks out the front room. Mentally, she’s also flipping her off with both fingers, just so you know. She listens as blondie starts to hum again. Beca recognizes it as a tune from Les Mis. Is that something she did a lot? That was going to get really annoying. Beca bet she even sang in the shower sometimes, what a nerd. 

\----

As soon as Chloe leaves, Beca kick starts the brain-storming of her escape plan. Finally, _FINALLY_ a minute without the other woman in the room with her. That had been one of the most awkward 4-hour periods of her life. Granted, she had only been conscious for about the last hour and ten minutes of her time spent as a hostage, and her experience thus far had gone better than expected, but still. There was much to celebrate about being given the chance to scheme. How was she going to get out of here? Was there anything this outhouse-of-a-motel could possibly provide for her anyway? Now would be the time for a MacGyver epiphany, if Beca was capable of MacGyvering. She'd find that out soon enough. A quick scan of the room didn’t reveal anything of particular value on sight. That was cheap accommodation for you though. The mental cursing of this place was starting to become tedious even to her so she gives up. Okay think again. What did she have free? What could she move? Well her mouth. That was a start. And her chair? Her chair was solid metal, but at least it was light and not riveted to the floor. So maybe she could hop to the nearby dressers? If she was correct at least the crusty old carpet would muffle her sounds.

Her feet were tied together and not to the chair, so maybe if she rocked the chair just enough, she might be able to hop. She tries it. Forcefully shoving her body’s gravity forward as much as she can. There was barely any movement. God this rope was tight around her torso. Legs up, weight backward, head backward, legs down and… _lunge_. Much more movement this time. Yes. She was running out of time. Time to push it. She repeats the action a couple more times. She’s on her feet surprisingly fast.

“Yes!” She whispers triumphant, because it’s a still a victory in this depressing scenario, however minor.

Okay now over to the dresser. Wait, how was she going to open the draw? She realizes how with some degree of disgust. _With her mouth!_  Beca lightly gags. Gross. Shit, but she didn’t have any time to come up with a better option. _Suck it up Mitchell!_  She thinks, then with a deep breath she leans down and closes her mouth around the wooden knob of the dresser. She's unable to stop the mental screaming about the terrible, terrible hygiene of it all. Oh lord if blondie came back now it would be weird. Beca tries not to think of how that scene would possibly go. As it turns out, there’s nothing of use in the draw. The only things in it are a couple of pairs of lacy underwear that Beca wishes she hadn't seen, because she doubted they belonged to anyone here. If they did ,that was gross. Super gross. Too intimate a thing knowledge wise to know about your kidnapper. She was running out of time.

If Beca were a hot assassin lady where would she keep anything of value? Her head moves back to the bed, not there... _the bedside table_. She hops a solid 4 meters to the bed. Dammit too low a knob for her teeth. Back to the ass sitting, her feet would have to come through for her this time. She struggles with her grip the first three times. Come on, come on- she was descended from quadruped, this should be easy. Then giving her a complete and utter heart-attack, a phone starts buzzing.

“ _Jesus_.” She breathes.

The vibrating is coming from under the pillow. How subtle. Beca continues to ignore it as she grapples with the knob. After an eternity the thing goes to voicemail. It’s a woman’s voice, high-pitched and whiny. Beca hates the caller already.

**“Hey it’s me. Pick up as soon as you get this message, I know you’re probably with Rebecca Mitchell right now but this can’t wait. …Stay safe.”**

Click. That’s it. No name, nothing. Real helpful for Beca. When was Blondie coming back? Beca reckoned she couldn’t have too long left figure anything out and she’d searched a total of one draw. She had to get better at this. With her lamentations, she finally manages to get her feet into a stable position for the draw to open up. She feels like punching the air, but… yeah. That will have to wait. On her feet again, she peers at the draw content and can’t believe her luck. _A pocket knife! Victory!_ Now she just had to figure out the awkward procedure of getting it into her hands...

Its awkward but she manages it. It’s a very boring process to describe in the narrative of a story, so to skip ahead just a tad, Beca's now back where she was originally sat, still infuriatingly stuck in her chair. Beca has no idea when Blondie's going to be back but figures she won’t appreciate the sudden movement of her across the room, so before attempting to escape she shifted back to where she was, to quell any potential suspicions. The knife's now in position behind her back and she's ready to start carving away at the tough fiber of whatever sort of rope mercenaries were into these days. Beca hopes no metal fibers are involved.

It feels as if she's spent a long-time carving before she becomes negatively aware of the lack of Blondie. There's a sudden noise outside as if to answer her inquiry. It sounds like a dull thud. Then there’s a much larger BAM and Beca swears the door actually shudders a little. ...What was happening?!? The she hears the distinct shattering of china.

“Uhhhhhhh.” She hears herself hum.

Not very eloquent, she knows, but it describes her current emotions best. The door of hotel room violently bursts open, and another Scandi-type woman and a crazy looking dark haired man, both FLAWLESS looking and over 6”2 btw, enter the room. Wearing blackened military type gear.

“ _UHHHHHHHH!_ ”

The exaggeration and repetition of the former speech speaks really for itself. The imposing woman is the first to speak up.

“Fraulein Beca I take it? It’s good to finally meet the daughter of such a prodigy.”

Okay no. When did her everyday life turn into a Die-Hard movie? And did she just make a movie reference? Ugh, she was going to kill Jesse for turning her into a nerd. And prodigy? Sure, her dad had a Ph.D. but prodigy would be too strong a word to describe any of his achievements, including being involved in birthing herself.

“Where’s Blondie? Who are you?” Her voice comes out with a bold amount of venom. Was it wrong of her despite their obvious black ops appearance, and strongly Germanic accents, to pray that they were some sort of US legal authority? Beca didn’t think so. She really wanted to get out of here after all. Please let them be good guys.

“Who’s Blondie?”

The tall, dark and vaguely camp male asks, also with a heavy and distinct voice. Well that did not bode well for her at all.

“We are DSM and we are here to kidnap you. Again, it would seem.” The blonde woman ignores her side-kick, and Beca thinks that’s probably for the best.

“A _re_ -kidnapping. A kid-nap within a kid-nap. Very Inception, totally Hollywood.”

Dark haired dude-bro was really getting into this. He was maybe too spot on with that Hollywood remark. Beca frantically shakes her head.

“No, you see there’s really no need for this. I’ve already been kidnapped and claimed by someone. Unfortunate, I know, sorry.” She swallows her nerves. “ _I_ for one, wish I could go with you guys, but y’know my original kidnapper’s gonna be back at like any moment and she’s- _super_ bad-ass. I wouldn’t want to mess with that.”

The German woman saunters over to her, the rhythmic sway of her hips as she does so is kinda hot. Beca feels a flush start to creep up her neck. So not the time for a gay thought like that.

“Yes, I can see she tied you up into a neat little package for us, how convenient. We can just get two of our lackeys to carry you out on their shoulders.”

She snaps her fingers and sure enough two slightly less imposing minions wearing the same gear come in. How many of them were there?

“Woah hey, no. What?”

Beca frantically shifts from side to side as the two grab a hold of her seat. And when they do so of course, she promptly drops her pocket knife. _Shit_. The lackeys don’t seem to notice, apparently they hadn’t even heard the dull thud it made.  Kind of a really a poor effort from them is she's honest, she could see why Apollo and Artemis over there were needed to head this operation. Actually, the twins were a pretty good code-name for those two. See this was the thing Beca was finding in dealing with goddamn mercenaries. No one used their real names, no-one, thus far, had used _any_ names. Not even Blondie when she was hitting on her at the bar last night. Was that a sort of conscious effort on their part? The deliberate avoidance of any naming? That would be such a nuisance to deal with. How impersonal. Wait a minute Beca loved avoiding intimacy! Perhaps she was going down the wrong career path. Clearly this crew also had a lot more money and influence then Blondie, because their gear was evidence of some serious moolah. She silences the part of her mind hoping that the lone hit woman was okay. What a stupid thought. Once again Beca found herself panic thinking about what the hell had her dad could have possibly done. Hell, if these guys weren’t going to murder him she sure was after this.

“Now this won’t hurt for more than a second.”

Her thoughts are interrupted by the deutsch goddess. Yeah now her mythology was getting confused. Her eyes widen when she spots what Artemis has suddenly removed from her pocket.

“WOAH.”

Needle. Big fucking needle. Where the hell had that come from? Artemis was stripping away the packet and ripping off the safety cap. _Oh fuck, they were going to drug her!_ At least Blondie had never done that. Her hands ram against her restraints, hopelessly pulling against the rough ties. It’s useless. She watches on helpless as the really quite attractive woman dramatically flicks the vile. Oh my god that needle was so fucking big. Beca was gonna hurl. She was definitely going to hurl. Artemis is suddenly looming over her so close that Beca can smell the perfume on her neck. She tries not to look at her chest, but it’s covered in Kevlar so like she could really see what she was apprehensive to see. Beca feels herself heating up again.

Beca releases a hiss of pain as the German lady slash model then rams the needle into her neck. That was unnecessarily aggressive. Last thing she needed was a bruise that looked like a giant hickey appearing on her neck. Alright, who was it that said that you shouldn’t fear needles? Whoever it was Beca was going to write a big letter of complaint to, telling them where they could stick their-own needle after this. All of a sudden, everything seems to slow down. It's like her eyes aren’t working in time with her brain. Then her vision begins to swim. Beca hadn't been this out of it since she had to DJ some senior high school's birthday last month. That was fast. This was some _strong stuff-_

“Take her to the car out front, and make sure Chloe is incapacitated but not dead. We do not want to start an all-out war with the Bella's.”

Wait who was Chloe? And Bella? NAMES finally! Now if only she knew what they meant.

The two DSM agents turn to look at her. Maybe Beca had said that all out loud? She wasn’t sure. Beca felt funny… She feels like she's suddenly _flying_ and vaguely registers that she’s being lifted up into the air on her chair. Hehehe rhyming… She felt so light... It was so nice not to be a ball of anxiousness! They could take her wherever they wanted, what was she so worried about? She just needed to get high more often. What _was_ this stuff? It was good.

Artemis grins as she’s marched past. Why was she still so close to Beca’s face? And why does the blue in her eyes look like it's moving? It's like a miniature ocean in there... She swears she sees a teeny-tiny whale breach. _Whoa_.

“Sleep tight little maus.”

Artemis's voice becomes creepily distorted as Beca gets taken for the second time, from a hotel bedroom against her will in 24 hours. Execept this time, she's _**off-her-tits**_ on drugs.

_Fuck ing  h el l._


	2. Atomic Blondie

#  Atomic Blondie

###  Chapter 2

Chloe leaves the comfort of their bedroom to buy some food from the hallway vending machine. She hadn’t completely told Beca the truth. She could get better food if they really needed it. Actually, a k-mart was just down the street. But Chloe never liked to stray too far from her mark, just in case the worst were to happen. The worst _had_ happened. Like she had told Beca, in the past there had been an infuriating amount of escape attempts. All of them had been failures of course, but none left a good vibe in her stomach. 

Chloe releases a sigh. Not long now until she could take a leave of absence. In her down time, Chloe Beale was somewhat of a party animal; a rave-master of significant renown. Her memory flashes back to her last summer in Aruba, with her girls and her boy toy of the month… she lets loose a wolfish grin. Only two jobs again this year and she’d be set for another three-month trip around asia. She really should invest more in her savings; but she was young. There was still plenty of time to create a nest egg in this business, considering how lucrative it was. Chloe feeds a ten dollar note into the machine and impatiently selects G7: an off-brand fruit and nut bar. Slow release energy, always the better option in her line of work. From behind her Chloe hears a hallway door suddenly slam violently, and then the more subtle sound of another quietly open. Her eyes flick to the glass of the vending machine, and in its reflection, she makes out the guise of a young Asian man. He’s wearing an orange Hawaiian top and some loose khakis, but the socks and sandals are what really make her grimace. Dude no. He slowly shuffles down the corridor, looking a tad worried. It looks like he’s going to try and line up behind her so Chloe snaps her attention back to retrieving her food.

“After you-” Chloe offers, motioning to the machine once she’s done.

He smiles fetchingly at her and nods politely, before reaching into his pocket for what she assumes is- fuck. It’s then she notices the light trace of a Kevlar vest under the shirt. Their eyes make contact in the machine glass. Then slowly, out his pocket, he produces what looks like a needle. Chloe springs into action. The man dives towards her and with one swift movement she grabs him by the arm and twists around, hearing him yell as he drops the device from his grasp. Angrily he swings at her with his fists, but Chloe swiftly ducks as she sends him reeling into the vending machine with a well-placed kick to the chest. To his credit, he manages to block her next punches, and the next opening Chloe leaves he takes, tackling her into the hall wall and sending all the air from Chloe’s lungs. She doesn’t have enough time to recover before he hits her square in the jaw and sends her crashing her onto the floor. The rusty taste of iron fills her mouth. Damn. She feels over the inside of mouth with her tongue for any loose teeth. Chloe had just had her dental check-up a fortnight ago. She starts to feel the Adrenalin flooding her body and decides to focus on that high rather than the pain. Breathe. Okay, ready for round two. She’s ready to get back up on her feet, and valiantly turns to face her opponent when she spots the hall vase in his arm, ready to be swung at her head.

You had got to be fucking kidding.

This time when she hits the floor she stays there. Luckily, she was strung out enough not to feel it.

\----

When Chloe comes around again she isn’t sure how long it’s been. Everything feels a tad spiny though, that's for certain. She knows it’s a bad thing when what she thinks she sees is two trash cans, merge back into one. What the fuck. Then she notes the shattered China of the floor …oh. That would explain why everything... really hurt. Chloe just needs to shut her eyes again.

                                  

                   Just for a second.

 

When she opens them again Chloe spots what she thinks are two pairs of combat boots are marching past. She waits patiently for them to merge back into one solid image, but her vision doesn't want to comply.

“Chloe!” A shrill voice suddenly yells. It sounds like Beca Mitchell’s voice, but it can’t be because she’s safely inside Chloe’s bedroom. Then it laughs. It definitely can’t be her hostage. Beca hadn’t laughed, why would she? Chloe had kidnapped her after all.

“Bella! Whomever the hell you are!”

The woman yells again. Bella… how did she know about the Bella's? She manages to look up now the boots have passed her. So, it wasn’t one person this time after all. Turns out, the boots belonged to two body-armour clad men, holding up a chair with what looked like a small woman tied to it. It looked like an especially wild bachelorette party. She has to blink through her fogged mind to make sure that this is really happening. 

“Chloe! Save me, dammit!” The high pitched voice commands.

Did chairwoman just call her name? She actually looked kind of a lot like Beca too. Hang on a second, the two men were in complete black. Where did she recognize them from? Her mind suddenly clears up. The black, goth-like vibe? Hell, the one on the left was wearing fish-net socks. DSM. They were DSM. Without a doubt. How had they known where to find Beca? Voices drift out of Chloe’s bedroom to the right. A single man and woman's. She recognizes them immediately. Kommissar. Her chest fills with rage. She was going to crush that insufferable bitch. Pieter too of course, but that was less personal, that boy was alright. Oh, fuck but she certainly couldn’t do that like this. Her eyes land on the unused needle by her foot and as hard as she can she kicks it so it rolls safely under the vending machine. It was best that it stayed away from anyone’s sight and use. Beca being out of commission alone was going to suck enough for everyone. The voices of the DSM agents become louder. As she hears them emerge from her room, Chloe shuts her eyes and does the only thing she can think of: playing it like she’s passed out. Its unnerving hearing them halt just above where she lies.

“Agent Beale, all tuckered out. Ah, how the mighty fall.”

“She crashed and burned faster than an F1 motor vehicle. Tragic. Truly.”

“Shame we cannot take her out here and now. It would be… a _pleasure_.”

“Still, the revenge is sweet for your broken arm no?”

Chloe has to stop herself smiling with glee at the hilarious memory. That would teach Kommissar for calling her tone-deaf. The circumstances for that were ridiculous. Chloe sang ONE song to herself in a communal shower in an Icelandic spa, and the Bella's mortal enemy just also happened to have bugged that same room. Turns out they were on opposite sides of a war going on between their clients, who were business partners in a law-firm that was going under. Each was convinced that this was due to the other embezzling funds. Turns out, it was the shared accountant who was responsible for it all in the end. Chloe found out the intel, but she let DSM deal with him. Anyway Kommissar being _HER_ couldn't help but comment on her voice the next time Chloe met her and well, Chloe didn't stand for personal slander. Suddenly there’s a sharp pain in her ribs and she has to beg herself not to squeeze her eyes shut and remain limp. OH MAN. FUCK. There was no quite sharp a pain as that of a steel-toed boot to the ribs.

“There now we’re even.” Kommissar laughs as she walks away. Chloe lets out the moan of anguish she’d been internalizing the last 30 seconds and starts crawling over to her room. It was time for the emergency kit.

The move back to her room 5 meters away is pretty damn awful but Chloe’s been through worse. Still on her knees she crawls over to her bedside and shoving her suitcase out the way, Chloe thrusts her arm as deep into the crawl space as she can go. First, she pulls out her own protective vest and yanks it over her head. Wincing as she tightens the straps at its sides. If she’s lucky Kommissar won’t have broken any of her ribs. If she’s not… Chloe might die of internal bleeding later. But that was a future her problem. Hand back into the crawl space, she feels desperately around for the tiny black case she was actually looking for. She's grateful that DSM hadn’t tossed her room for all her equipment. It was always good to not lose your potentially lifesaving Kevlar #blessed. Chloe just wished she had actually been wearing it before the rib-kicking incident. With a bit more digging, she finds the small black case and desperately tries to open it in her shaking hands. Ignoring the trembling, she unzips the case fully to find her own ominous syringes. Three vials. Perfect. Next up is her phone, then the utility belt strung up on the back of her door. She’s missing something... Her eyes dart to the pocket knife on the floor. How the fuck did that get there? She scoops it up, flips it shut and dumps in in her boot. The Ruger! Her 1911! she dashes back into the bathroom and pulls it out from behind the toilet. Its partner was waiting in her cupboard, along with some spare clips. Not exactly motel regulation, but Chloe liked to push the second amendment as far as it could take her. Thank god she’d reloaded. She takes one of the viles in the pack and pops open the lid, stuffing the remaining two viles back under her vest. Now was time to be bad-ass. She stabs the amber liquid into the exposed veins of her forearm, and the drug hits her in the biggest, _brightest_ rush.

The rotting door nearly flies of its hinges when she kicks it out. _God_ that felt cool. Door kicking never usually worked. Glancing upward she really hoped the security cameras had caught that. Maybe she would come back and steal the security tape later? It was then she noticed the cut wires. **_Fuck!_ ** DSM ruined everything!

“Hands on your head!”

She registers the threat, but Chloe’s barely even looked at the DSM minion before she raises her pistol and releases two rounds into his chest. Then unsurprisingly and almost on cue, she hears yelling from outside. And screaming from the neighboring rooms. Shit. She kicks up her pursuit into a jog, moving out onto the balcony as she tries to go for the outside stairs. They were just about to throw Beca into the back of a black SUV.

“IT’S THE BELLA!”

Douche-canoe in the Hawaiian shirt cries out, and Chloe thinks she detects a hint of fear in his voice. Kommissar and Pieter notice her at the same time. Consequently, she dives behind the brick wall expecting a shoot-out to begin in any minute.

“Get her out of here!” Pieter, Kommissar's scheming right-hand, orders. “I’ll hold her off!”

He could try it, but Chloe liked her odds.

“Wait a minute!” Komissar interrupts. Buzzkill. Just when things were decidedly becoming interesting.  “Guns down. _Now_.”

Breathing heavily Chloe decides to sneak a peek around the corner of her hiding-place. She dares to break the silence.

“Give me back my hostage!” Chloe shouts in indignance.

To the point. Kommissar isn’t used to such an informal lack of manners. Though, she supposed she was dealing with Americans. Chloe always was an animal in the field too. Her temper flares as she recalls their last encounter a year ago that left her out of action for two months. She wondered if Pieter could get a good shot in if she distracted the ginger long enough with this meaningless babble. Or at least if her idiot help could get Beca free from the chair and into the car without this situation escalating beyond control. She glances at little maus, now lying on her side, unconscious, and at Alexei cutting through her cords of bondage like butter. She just had to keep Chloe’s attention a little bit longer.

“Chloe dear! Always good to see a Barden Bella outside their native state, how charming to see you again.”

“Cut the bullshit.” Chloe mumbles under her breath.

“That’s _my_  hit Kommissar.” She continues yelling, once more braving peering over the top of the wall. She hesitates before also sending a brief nod. “Good to see you too, Pieter.”

“Yah, I haven’t seen you since Amsterdam!”

He sounded cheerful.

Well this was sort of a stale mate. If they opened fire, a lot of innocent people could be caught in the madness, but if Chloe stayed here they got Ms. Mitchell. Not good for her track record. Also, kind of a pain to sort out in the long run. Truthfully, it was mainly the second one.

“Perhaps we can talk this out, no? Work out some sort of deal.” Kommissar continues slowly.

“Deal, huh?” Chloe feigns interest. Ducking back down, then glancing both to her left, then right. “Tell me more.”

To her right was a whole U of balcony, with absolutely no coverage. That meant she would have to make a sprint for it. Chloe wasn’t really sure her ribs were up for that. But the diagonal stairs on that end were closer to DSM’s SUVs. If she could get to them on time, she could head out with Beca already in the boot like she saw, not ideal but it was quick. On her left were the closer set of stairs, and at the bottom 30 meters away was parked something really special. A beautiful 71’ Chevelle.  Chloe bites her lip. It was also the only cover available for that entire stretch. But if they shot the paintwork on that Chloe would never forgive herself. A quick scan of the parking lot revealed little else that was useful. There were also three motorbikes and bicycle, all of which would be useless to her with a passenger.

“The Bella's have been good to us over the years.” Komissar continues to ramble.

“Uh-huh.”  Chloe says, sort of already tuning the other woman out. 

Good as in, the Bellas hadn’t killed any intruding DSM agents they found when the rival faction had tried to burn down the Bella's base of operations. Instead they had just found the DSM agents responsible, tied them up and left them outside the police station in their underwear for the cops to find. Covered in Barden blue and yellow paint. It was more humiliating to the rival merc's that way.

“We have kept the peace since our last incident two years ago, no?”

In this last incident, they’d shot her best friend in her spinal cord and left her paralyzed, or maybe they’d forgotten? It wasn't peace that kept them from ripping each-other apart but the threat of lawsuit.

“Aubrey has forgiven me Agent Beale, can’t you? We found peace when money was involved. What about you? Surely there’s something of value you want in your life?”

“I suppose you’re right.” Chloe swallows the bile back down her throat. “Sounds interesting. Go on.” Ugh she hated the sweetness in her voice. DSM thought them all these heartless American beasts. Well fine Chloe could do that.

The left side looked like the more promising exit. It was swift decision making that kept you alive in these situations, and Chloe wasn’t about to second guess herself. Taking a deep breath, she raises her gun. Trying to summon the courage to make a break for it. ...She just needed the right moment.

“I have a briefcase with $50,000 in the boot of my car.”

“That’s pretty convenient of you.” Chloe hollers back, peering around the corner once again.

“Well you know what they say…” Komissar gestures for her men to split off, clearly, they were done untying Beca. Chloe watches them divide up the various stair cases. A small frown reaches her brow. Peace her ass. “It’s good to be prepared.”

Indeed, it was. Chloe embraces the hammering heart in her chest as she rolls out of cover and into the home straight of the stair well. She fires a single shot into the abdomen of the guard who was just about to silently round her corner. Time seems to slow down. She’s up and gripping the same guard’s shoulder pushing her backward, sending another two bullets into the chest of her back-up who inelegantly crashes to the floor.

“Shit.” She hears Kommissar swear. At least she’s pretty sure it means shit in German. “Get going, go!”

Chloe's fist clenches around the semtex she’d just nabbed from chick-guard. Now the party really began. Grinning she pulls the pin and lobs it as close to the other SUV as she can manage without potentially blowing up Beca. The explosion is glorious, and a certain signal to the cops to be on their way.  But now there was a time limit to get out of here. ...Chloe _really_ loved her job. She takes the second of DSM’s disarray to run down the stairs, kicking her former human shield down the flight as she does so, spare herself the need for a double-tap. She ducks behind the stairs for protection. The Chevelle, she notes is just another 20 meters away. Alright, time to break cover again, here we go.

The other guards are quick to run fumbling back to Beca’s SUV. Chloe is quick to fire three shots at the tires. She thinks she lands one on the back but she’s missing one on the front. Disable two of them and DSM wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. Two duff tires were all she needed. Goddamn it. Her pistol twists to Kommissar, forcing the leader to take cover as she reveals her own weapon. Back to the SUV, Chloe prays and takes in a sharp breath. Calm. The distractions of the battlefield quickly disappear. She sends her last bullet flying. It’s perfect hit. She can't believe it, _both_ tires with one cartridge. She could kiss someone. _Yes!_

“NO!” Kommissar angrily yells. “Pieter! Get her to your car, NOW!”

Her first instinct of course is to go directly after Pieter. But she’s forced back into cover when Kommissar emerges from behind the cover of DSM's non-blown up car. Oh shit. She has a look of what Chloe can only describe as a pure rage tattooed across her face. In fact, if Chloe weren’t a hardened criminal, she probably would have peed herself a little at the sight. The German raises her gun and Kommissar lets of a blast from her- what that a Desert Eagle?  The bullet lodges heavily into the wall beside her, centimeters from Chloe's chest. See this is why Chloe had taken out life-insurance, you never knew. Komissar releases yet another angry bullet from her gun. Chloe releases a panicked yelp as she ducks to move away from it. Of course Komissar had a hand-cannon, she was crazy, why did Chloe doubt that. Chloe's advantage? The recoil on that beast made it slow.

“ _DIE_ , you ginger c***!”

 **Woah**. Her mouth falls open in just pure shock. Clearly, someone was as jacked on Adrenalin as she was. There was no need for the excessive name calling though. So not feminist of her. Another shot gets fired, a hole appears where her head just was before she moved it, jeez. Speaking of Adrenalin, Chloe swoops under the stair case, maybe it was time to- She looks up and finds Kommissar somehow already there, and holding a gun to her forehead.

“Huh.” Chloe cocks her head to the side. “Irony.”

\----

Pieter struggles with the tiny girl in his arms. It should have really been easier than it was, carrying someone who was only five foot two, and yet here he was, already weakening. He should really get back to doing some more cardio work. In all honesty he had been lagging a bit on his training and he wasn’t proud of it. He had no excuse. Just laziness. Pieter had really gotten into the Netflix recently, particularly this telenovela called ‘Jane the Virgin’. God Jane, just choose that hunk of man meat Raphael. He wasn’t even bisexual, but Pieter wasn’t BLIND, and he craved that man’s abs. Goals, as the youth would say.

Coming up to his beautiful car, it was perhaps a bit naïve of him to bring it along, but she was such a pretty thing and he didn’t care to leave her in the garage. He realized that he couldn’t actually get to his keys. Well this was a problem. He took a second to think. All he could hear was the sound of Kommissar’s hand-cannon going off and the huff of his breath in the now smoky lot, so he assumed he was safe to put Beca Mitchell down. For what it was worth he truly hoped his partner didn’t kill Chloe Beale. That girl was a riot. Of course, Pieter loved his partner but she did have a tendency to take things a bit to personally. They were mercenaries, for pity’s sake, pettiness was a sure sign of weakness in this industry.

Gently, he bends down to place Beca on the floor. He would have dumped her, she definitely wouldn’t have felt it now the sedative had taken full effect, but the poor women looked pretty banged up already. A bruise had started to form on her forehead. What had Chloe put her through? He tsks as he reaches into the pockets of his camo pants. Now where had he put his keys? Key were so strangely hard to find in large pockets. He is totally and completely unaware as the butt of a Ruger slams into the back of his head and knocks him out.

An exhausted Chloe Beale, now complete with a cut lip, swoops his keys of the ground as she unlocks the car. With a grunt she lifts an unconscious Beca up into her arms. Surprisingly heavy.

It’s awkward to fit her into the car, but she does so quickly. Pulling the custom seat belt over the floppy body of the wannabe DJ. Sloppy, but it would do. She slams the car door behind her as she rounds the vehicle to her side. Close enough. Dropping into the driver’s seat herself, and just as on edge she flips the ignition on. The engine rev mimicking the fierce feeling running through her veins. Nobody kidnapped her hit. NO-ONE. Someone was going to die for this, but they’d have to die later. She makes a note of all the DSM green-horn's terrified faces as she re-arranges the car's center mirror. Then, she thrusts the stick into first, and dragging it rather cheekily into third, she spins the car in a donut straight out of there and onto the street. She glances nonchalantly at her passenger: who's head is still lolling uselessly around. Chloe shakes her head. Rescuing her DJ was so not part of the extortion plan. She deserved a raise. A big raise. Which Aubrey could grant her or she'd walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> High-octane stuff here folks. Just gonna go straight into it! Haha. It's probs going to fast, but, it's word vomiting from my mind thus far. Hope the streak continues. Also what do you think of bad-bitch Chloe? I'd really like to know! Please leave a comment, I'd love it if you did!


	3. There Should Have Been a Car Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know in heavy action movies, when they sometimes just cut from one scene location to the next, and leave out what happens in the travelling part? Or when they need to get from one location to the next and they want to show it, there's always a vehicle chase? Well that's what Chloe wanted. Or Expected. Either way she somehow feels cheated. Whatever, there's always a later chapter to fix that.

#  There Should Have Been A Car Chase

###  Chapter 3

_“What do you mean there was an ambush?”_

The heavily modulated voice crackles harshly through the dark room. Leaving its recipients fumbling for an adequate answer.

“We couldn’t have known for certain that DSM would appear.”

A shadowed woman replies to the voice calmly, hand reaching for the keyboard in an attempt to clear-up the incoming phone call. Her manicured fingernails coolly tap away at lightening-speed. The woman felt no pressure, in fact, she was just showing of her technological ability for shits-and-giggles. No one had asked her to do it, but she graduated university sum-cum-laude for a reason.

_“I PAID you, to kidnap the scientist. I even listened and approved of your idea to kidnap the daughter against my better judgement, when he went missing-”_

She nods her head to show that she gets it, she really does. As if they can actually see that’s she’s co-operating and trying to be friendly. She rolls her eyes. At least in adopting a customer service attitude she managed to keep _herself_ grounded and calm. This person needed a spa day.

“And Chloe has Beca. I’m sure right now, they’re on their way here.”  She continues.

_“What do you mean you’re sure? Where are they right now?”_

Shit. Poor choice of words. Stacie Conrad nervously bites on her lip, eying her boss for back-up. Senior Commander Aubrey Posen grits her teeth and starts moodily wheeling out of the computer room.

“Patch him through to my office, I’ll catch them up on everything in there.”

\----

_“You’ll never take us ALIVE!”_

_Chloe yells maniacally as she swerves her car onto the street. Three police cars scream and wail around the corner after her. Chloe notices the po-po take up the whole of the street behind, neatly hugging both sides and her mind swims at the madness. It’s like experiencing a tsunami from the water’s perspective its… this whole thing is… thrilling. Impatiently she blasts her car horn, cursing as people barely manage to move out of the way. Hurry up, hurry up, fuck she was going to get caught-_

_“Chloe.” A man’s voice sharply interrupts. Chloe pauses her game and slowly turns to face Harvard Beale, who, in all his moustached glory is standing in their living-room doorway, thoroughly unamused. She feels her face redden in embarrassment, and sheepishly looks at the ground. Anywhere to avoid his heavy and accusatory gaze._

_“Sorry dad.”_

_“It’s okay sweetie, just… contain your enthusiasm a bit okay? Mum’s trying to sleep.”_

_He comes over and kisses Chloe on the forehead and hugs her in the way he sometimes did from above. He smells distinctly of sandalwood and cigarette ash._

_“Yes dad.” Young Chloe answers sincerely. “Sorry dad.”_

The memory comes into her head rather surprisingly. But it’s how awesomely dramatic ten-year-old Chloe imagined her life to be if she were ever fleeing a crime scene of her creation. Instead, twenty years later, she found herself fifteen minutes away from the scene having only just discovered the entrance of the motorway. With no tail. None at all. Deep down, she knew her crankiness about the incompetence of police department, wasn't actually warranted. Of course she didn't want that heat, her jumpiness and excitement was just the adrenalin talking and now there was nowhere to offload it.  She finally settles down when the adrenalin rush starts to fade another 10 minutes later and when they’re much, much further from the mess she had made back at the motel. Only after these thoughts does Chloe actually remember the passenger sprawled shotgun. She makes a grimace. God, Beca looked dead, how had they not been pulled over yet? Guess she was going to have to pull a weekend at Bernie’s and cover Beca’s eyes with some sunglasses or something. But preferably only when they were far enough out to make sure no one was trailing them. Like, for sure. Well Chloe was pretty sure no one was, but she also knew it wouldn't hurt to quadruple check. Anyway for now, she would just have to enjoy her peaceful drive.

She deliberately presses down on the gas, revelling in the glorious speed of Pieter’s new ride. Last time they’d met she knew he DEFINITELY hadn’t had the cash for something like this. Clearly, DSM had come into money of late. She fondly caresses the steering wheel. No this was HER ride now. Blanca was hers. Pieter never needed to know she had it, Chloe would just fake an arson on a similar model… switch the plates… and bam. Blanca was hers in all her magnificent crimson glory. Chloe even had a hard on for those white racing stripes he’d modded onto the front. Glorious American muscle. Drive on.

It’s another slow two and a half hours of countryside cruising, jamming out to some Folk music radio station Chloe has never heard of, before she feels the need to find at least some accommodation ideas for the night. No point in going anywhere fancy. None of those sorts of places usually had any vacancies last-minute anyhow. Oh shit, that and Chloe had nothing with her bar corpse-bride over there riding shot-gun, who hadn’t moved a damn muscle the entire time.  She turns in the driver’s seat and moves a hand down Beca’s limp arm to the petite woman’s wrist. Fingers stopping at her pulse point for the briefest of moments. Yep, still alive. The hand flops back to where it was, dangling over the edge of the foot well. Chloe sighs. It was a good decision to keep her unconscious. Chloe didn’t need that hysteria right now.

On looking back to the road, Chloe spots signs for an up and coming gas station and without even bothering to indicate she swerves down its route exit. She could really do with some food. The side road takes her up a decrepit looking way for about 500 meters and Chloe begins to slightly doubt her decision. But then she spots the garage on her left and pulls the car around the back, without much of a second thought. It’s a small place, with old timey pumps that had somehow managed to avoid being bought out. She can’t even read what the name of the joint is, the paint on the sign above is so faded, and in a way, Chloe digs its run down vintage charm. Chloe spots a sign for the ladies that gestures around there too. Perfect. Secluded.

When Blanca is parked and secure, Chloe unbuckles and finally pulls the Kevlar vest of her chest. Throwing it without much remorse into the back seat. Hissing as the pressure on her ribs is released. They were bruised but not broken. Motherfucker- Next time she saw Kommissar, Chloe swore she was going to put a bullet in her brain. Next phase is she checks glove compartment. She grins when she finds Pieter’s wallet. Worn and beaten brown leather. It’s pretty simple, and surprisingly tasteful of the German. It also has $200 bucks in it, PLUS a card with contactless. Chloe laughs triumphantly. Fucking yes. She was going treat herself. She’d committed like, six felonies today, why not add a seventh? But first… her eyes look up from the dash as she spots the toilet block. A b-line to the ladies was definitely needed to try and de-grime herself. Chloe looked nasty. She pulls down the cars sun blocker and winces at her reflection. Chloe looked _terrible._

The toilets were as grimy and disgusting as Chloe expected. In a way it was sort of comforting to know she wasn’t going to be dirtying it up. The red floor tiles were muddy and cracked, the graying walls covered in dust and cobwebs. But in the fractured wall mirror she could see that her split lip wasn’t as bad as she’d actually pictured. It certainly didn’t look conspicuous though.  She rinses her face best she can, and combs her hand through her hair in attempt to straighten it out at least a little. Then turns her attention to what she’d managed to pull from Pieter’s car.

Credit to DSM, they were a weird bunch, but a highly professional one. On popping Pieter’s trunk Chloe immediately recognized the presence of a bug-out bag. They were very personal things, bug-out bags, you would never really know what you’d find other than the universals: a new ID, a gun, a spare set of clothes, a towel and toothbrush. If you were lucky, maybe even perhaps a disguise? Speaking of, in this bug out, there was something truly absurd. Pieter’s spare clothes consisted of… wait for it.. a fishnet shirt. A red fishnet shirt, a pair of black jeans that were never going to fit Chloe in a million years, and the same for the leather soles. That left her with the shirt. The sleeves, were fine actually, Chloe was only a tad smaller than the German in height, it was the ginormous torso that bothered her the most. She flicks out her pen knife and picks apart the bottom layers, and stripping off her sweat drenched tee she tosses it to the side, taking a moment to admire herself in the mirror. Nice. Good core there Beale. Also, the red bra was a good choice for today. The fish net goes over her torso, and Chloe finds herself back in her high-school rebellious phase of goth. Still as cool as she remembers. The blonde hair of course was different, but still.

She formulates a semi-explainable backstory in her mind, trying to explain her odd appearance as she pulls the car round front to the actual gas-part of the station. Humming to herself, she fills up the car tank, and eyes up the ridiculous souvenir t-shirts on display on a rack outside. She grabs two, and another tooth brush, plus some tooth paste, a bag of beef jerky, a meal deal and some mints. Fuck it and a small bottle of vodka. And a deodorant stick. She should probably get a medical kit too. Pieter's was pretty well used. Though its heavy duty stuff was still around and usable. But Chloe was adamant to ever touch another person’s needles. Yeah that probably was everything. When she dumps it all on the front counter, rather satisfied with her findings, she looks up to meet a striking woman with dark hair, and kohl smoked eyes. looking pretty similar to her, actually. Just with better access to make-up. God, Chloe missed her make up right now. Punk had clearly come full circle and was back in the fleeting eye of the fashion giants once again. The cashier seems to note her dope fashion sense back. There’s approval in her eye. She’s kinda cute, Chloe thinks. Maybe they could have some fun.

“Is that your girlfriend in the car?” the cashier suddenly asks, a lazy smile spreading across her face.

“Hmn?”

Without thinking Chloe turns her head, then she remembers once again that Beca is with her. What a cock-block. She smiles though, because the DJ’s head from this angle looks pretty ridiculous. Chloe wishes she had her phone with her to take a funny photo, because this was sort of the perfect opportunity. To describe just how dumb her hostage looked, well if Beca were one of her friends, the image she was seeing right now was the sort of thing that would definitely end up being posted in the group chat. ASAP. Of course, this was all _hypothetical_. She’d never want to befriend a hostage. Not, that she couldn’t. Chloe was capable of making friends! In high-school actually, Chloe was somewhat of a rock-star, people loved her, because why wouldn’t they? Anyway, back to the subject. Somehow Beca had shifted since their stop, and her forehead was now smushed very unflatteringly against the dusty window glass. Her eyes are heavily closed, and her mouth partially open, ‘catching-spiders’ her mum would have said. What a loser. She grins, a sudden epiphany popping into her head at the woman’s words.

“Oh yes, yes, it is.” Her head eagerly whips back to the cashier. “We’re on our first holiday together and, _well_ , we thought we’d go on a week-long road trip. See where the road takes us.”  She fake laughs, and excitedly raises her shoulders in that girliest of manners. Pulling out that Beale charisma that sometimes made her job so easy. Except for this one time. Apparently. She feels her positive vibe sour just a tad.

The cashier raises her perfectly done eyebrows. Doing so in such a way that it’s hard to determine if she is either amused or unimpressed. Chloe decides she is low key in love with this woman already. What an attitude. The cynicism really was inspiring.

“So far it’s been pretty wild.” Chloe adds, gushingly. Keep digging unnecessarily on that fake character development, why not? The cashier nods as if she gets it.

“Well, hopefully she’ll have more energy that than where ever you end up tonight.”

The woman makes her own inspections of the cars occupant and seems ambivalent about her. Same, lady same. No strong emotions, god that was attractive. Chloe laughs. It’s flirtaceous. She should stop.

“Oh, she’s just all tuckered from the drive earlier. Last night we went to an underground rave, which is why I look like this.”

The cashier gives her a one-sided, slightly disbelieving grin. The ambivalence no switching to mild respect.

“Those mosh-pits are something huh.” She humours Chloe still, gesturing to her lip.

“Oh totally. It was my fault though, one too many drinks.” She can’t help it. She sends a wink the cashiers way.

“I’m surprised you’re even up by 4pm. Here, let me throw in a mineral water. You look like you could use some.”

“Oh my god thank you so much.”

“No problem. I think you two are… pretty cute.” The cashier smiles. Was she flirting back? Nice.

“Thanks that so sweet.” Chloe cocks her hip as she leaves. A little proud of herself.

“Have a good trip, and stay safe ‘kay?” The cute cashier calls after her.

“Have a nice day! Oh, wait and one more thing!” Chloe greedily looks the woman up and down. Leaning smoothly against the doorway. “How much for that leather jacket you’re wearing?”

She’d also last minute decided to buy and item, that was without a doubt comedically PERFECT. She’s beaming with satisfaction when she perches the horrid 1950’s style glasses on the bridge of a passed out Beca’s nose. Totally worth it. Weekend-at-Beca's was a go. HA! Also worth it was the extra tid-bit of information from that insanely attractive woman who’d told her about the nearby hotel around here that “always had a vacancy” and who's owners “weren’t super homophobic” either. Yeah that addition hadn’t really sprung any hope in her chest. STILL. Everything was going well. Now all she had to do was call Aubrey and- actually. Where was Chloe’s phone? Fuck. Opening the back door, she scrambles over to the Kevlar. It had to be in the side pockets, it had too-

“FUCK!” She cries out angrily and to no one in particular when she finally finds it. “Shiiiiiit.”

She tosses the thing under one of the seats. The screen was more than cracked, it was like someone had taken a hammer to it on both side. Goddamn. Fuck. FUCK. Chloe wipes a hand down her face. There went her 800-dollar phone. And her access to her boss. Why didn’t she take out phone insurance too? Everyone knew about the advantages of package deals! She exhales. Okay. Chloe sucks it all back up as she slams the back door and marches back to her seat. She’s still seething as she starts Blanca up. It’s okay Beale, all your contacts are on the cloud. She repeats the phrase like a mantra until it bothers her slightly less. She doesn't see the weird looks the cashier is giving her from the window as she speeds away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was me... experimenting with a pretty boring concept, I hope it's mundane-ness didn't put any of you off. I just wanted to know why this trope was avoided in all action I've watched slash read, because like action heroes HAVE to be involved in situations like this in their journeys right? Guns never blaze 24/7. Actually that's a good chapter name. I'll save that. (If you haven't guessed already, I'm prone to a splash of cheesy-bad in my stories that I adore lol).
> 
> Anyhow, I love the comments I'm receiving! They're the coolest thing in the world please keep them up! The interesting will return in the up-and-coming chapters POST hiatus. University work waits for no bitch. I've planned the whole story though and trust me, it. gets. GOOD. Please stick around? Oh, and let me know if you agree with Chloe and there should have, in fact, been a car chase.
> 
> Ciao for now though, see you summer. xxxx


	4. Earl's Hotel (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please god, let them rest.

#  Earl's Hotel (Part 1)

###  Chapter 4

Chloe pulls Blanca up and enthusiastically shuts off her engine. Pleased as punch that no other cars were around. Grabbing the car’s hand break she pulls it up with all her strength, and relishes in the satisfying sound it makes. Now that the car is finally still in the hotel parking lot, Chloe lets her head fall back against the soft leather car seat. It was wonderfully quiet, which meant she could actually take a moment to think. Tiredly, (her adrenalin shot must be wearing off), she looks over at Beca. The DJ is breathing lightly, still under the influence of whatever sedative DSM had administered into her system. Chloe could wait here for her to wake up or- She reaches forward and unlocks the front compartment, pulling out the familiar black case. It wouldn’t hurt for Beca to have a little pick me up. Besides how else was it going to look if she carried Beca’s lifeless form into- Chloe leans forward so she can read the sign out the front window- “Earl’s hotel.” Creative title. Looked like it hadn’t been renamed or remodelled since the 60’s. Yet another crap-hole she was going to be staying in. Chloe really missed her apartment on days like these. Perhaps a little indelicately she stabs the injector into Beca’s thigh. Not projecting her feelings onto her like at all. There’s no reaction. Chloe pulls it out and waits. Give it a second. Mentally she preps herself for the hysteria. Here we go. Beca shoots up, then grunts, slamming back into her seat as her seatbelt jars. The tacky sunglasses, Chloe had cheaply accessorized her with, clatter onto the car floor. Good to know they wouldn’t die if a crash happened.

“Who? What?”

Beca gasps. God the defensive karate chop hands are just embarrassing.

“ _You!_ Where?”

Beca barks angrily. Heart hammering in her chest. Why were they in a car? More importantly whose car? Did this chick have it the entire time? Wait she knew blondie’s name now. Didn’t she? Chloe wasn’t it? Bella? Her memory flashes to back to a dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes picking her up like a baby from what she _thinks_ is a car boot. Then jarringly she can’t think of anything else. Something clicks in her brain. How fast she’s thinking, breathing, even colours seem a little bit brighter or is she imagining things?

“Why does my body feel like it’s taken a tab of speed?” Beca gasps.

“I just injected you with some adrenalin. Give it a minute or two and you’ll feel less giddy.”

 _WHAT_.

“ _What_ why?”

She’s speaking quickly. She’s speaking really quickly and can’t seem to stop. Oh my god how long had she been out? Clearly a while because where they were now looked, well it looked completely different. Everything was different. Why was Chloe dressed as a punk rocker now? That was Beca’s thing. She looked like, ridiculously good too.

“Because DSM knocked you out, tried to kidnap you and incidentally nearly knocked ME out until your yelling pulled me back.”

Beca feels like Chloe should sound more grateful than she does at that comment. It sounds like Beca’s contribution there was pretty integral to them both being here now and well. She doesn’t actually remember crying out for her at all though, so, she decides to just take the win.

“I KNEW IT! You ARE called Chloe!”

Beca yells back. Maybe a bit too excited. That was the drugs, she assumed. Or maybe the woman’s name was Bella? But Beca was going to go with Chloe first if that lead didn’t come through. Wait who were DSM?

“Oh no! You found out.”

Chloe deadpans. Her arms just about managing an effective mock surrender in the crampt car space. In truth she was hiding the slight miffed feelings she was having. Ideally a client would never know her true name. Yet another reason to kick Komissar’s ass again in the future. She was getting pretty tired of doing that. Couldn’t she ever run in to some different DSM agents?

“Sorry for finally knowing something about this fucked up scenario.”

Beca mumbles back. It’s then she spots it. That the door is unlocked. She has to hide the smile that threatens to appear on her face. What dumb idiot kidnapper didn’t put on a child lock? Internally she’s laughing. This is the best shot she’s had at escaping so far. And so close to other members of the public! Witnesses! She wasn’t even restrained at all. This might be her only chance. Who knew what Chloe had intended for her next? She exhales and quickly looks at the dashboard, trying to keep herself unreadable. Still pretending to be vaguely pissed off, Beca yawns and stretches before she twists in her seat to undo her seat-belt. Suspiciously, Chloe eyes her up. Beca slumps back into her chair.

“So, where are we?”

It takes a while for Chloe to actually explain the events that had transpired these last few hours. It’s such a surprising and semi-terrifying thing to be told she played a part in it all _unconscious_ , that Beca temporarily forgets that the whole point of getting Chloe to go into this spiel in the first place was so she could make her escape. Beca isn’t sure the blonde is telling her the truth when she mentions her efficiency with her one cartridge of bullets. If Beca calculated what Chloe had told her correctly, then… Chloe had shot, and potentially killed at least six people. That was presuming that Chloe hadn’t left out a single detail. But Beca hadn’t even included the semtex in that body count. She feels her courage drop through her stomach and six feet underground with the accumulation of revelations. Beca wasn’t afraid to admit that she was actually _terrified_ that Chloe had blown something up when she was apparently only 20 meters away from the explosion site. It was a miracle she hadn’t broken anything, shit the same could be said for Chloe. How the hell was military gear this easy to obtain? Beca was certain it shouldn’t be that easy to get a hold of tax-payer weaponry.

“So, to clarify, you’re going into the boot to get our things, and then we’re going to go into the hotel together. We’re just going to stay there, overnight, _in a room together_?”

Beca interrupts a particular bloody scene Chloe is describing involving somebody called Kommissar? Who is apparently lucky Chloe didn’t decide to kill. Her stomach feels a little rough when she describes a knife twist.

“Yes.” Chloe says.

“Posing as a gay couple.” Beca answers flatly.

“Well, it is pride month.”

“It seems like you’ve got this all thought out.”

Beca manages a weak smile. Chloe folds her arms, somewhat approvingly. Beca notices for the first time that the woman is RIPPED. All the details she has been describing seem that more plausible. Not that she expected someone like Chloe to dramatize anything. She supposed there wasn’t really a need to embellish any stories in this line of business.

“Look at you, not being difficult for once.”

Wait- was that… a compliment? Did the blonde actually decide to say something nice to her? There was some inner scepticism from Beca about that. Chloe may have earnt a little of her respect but frankly, for her to choke and die would still be Beca’s preference. Her eyes flick to the side of the door again. Just for a second. She could go, bolt so easily if she wasn’t a coward. She swallows nervously. Chloe takes a second to unbuckle herself and makes to get out of the car. Probably going around to the boot to fetch their stuff. Beca looks down and makes a face at the fifties style, impossibly garish shades in her hands. Fiddling with them in annoyance as she contemplates her next move. She could try and go for it. There was nothing to stop her. With all the effort Chloe had put into saving her life earlier, Beca was sure no matter most the shit she pulled, that Chloe wouldn’t kill her. So really… what was she so afraid of? _So many other possibilities._ She tries not to think of them as she opens the door.

As Chloe gets out the car, she takes the time to actually assess the surroundings about her. Forestpeak seemed like any other secluded town in the US. No, that wasn’t quite true. Actually, it reminded her specifically of that little hamlet in American Psycho. Rural, beautifully wooded, and deathly quiet. On the drive in she had only seen one street, so the place was a ribbon settlement, and on the drive up to the hotel the tarmac road had converted to a dust one. It was kind of creepy, but Chloe found it oddly charming. It reminded her of her grandmother’s place down south. How long had it been since she’d been back to the farm? Too long. Her heart grieves for her dead grandmother and her lost gingerbread recipe. At least her parents had decided not to sell the place. Her dad’s nostalgia probably made it impossible for him to not live there again. Chloe smiles at the idea of him in his dungarees feeding the lambs. Her head pricks up at the sound of the car door opening, she’s grudgingly snapped out of her revelry. A blurred Beca Mitchell sprints from the side, fast as lightning, she heads toward the hotel reception.

“Shit.”

Did not see that coming. Chloe bolts after her.

“Beca!”

Beca’s fucking running for her life and frankly, wishing she had put more effort into her cardio workouts when she still had her student membership to the gym. She is gasping for breath and she’s only sprinted like 115m. If she can just make it to the reception around the front. That’s all she has to do. It’s like a hundred-meter dash. She hears the sound of rapid footsteps on gravel behind her. She kicks her sprinting up a notch. Truthfully, she had no idea she could even run this fast, her track teacher would be crying if she had seen Beca had ability like this, her ability wasn’t great but who knew that she had any to begin with? Her thighs scream with the effort, Beca thinks if she goes any faster her legs might buckle. _Keep going! It’s back to being a useless victim if you stop now!_

“No!” She cries out, more to herself than anyone. Keep going!

Thank god Chloe went to the gym on a regular basis. She’s barely breaking a sweat as she dashes after Beca. Her arms cut cleanly through the air and with perfect technique and she’s caught up with the smaller woman in seconds. Pathetic. She frowns at the DJ’s terrified words, knowing full well what her next move is. Beca better brace herself. She had no idea what was coming.

Beca turns her head just in time to see the full force of Chloe Beale crash into her. They fall forward onto the gravel below in a tangle of limbs and frustration. Beca’s body taking the brunt of all the pain. She immediately felt it. Good that hurt. No time to think of it though. Get up Mitchell! Fight!

“No!” Beca cries out again, trying to worm out from beneath the taller woman’s form. God she was heavy. All that muscle wasn’t helping her escape plan. From below Chloe sort of looks crazy, there’s a slight madness in her face. And also, the hair falling down either side of her wasn’t doing much to add to her feelings. Beca wasn’t going to let her tell her what to do any longer! Now Beca was mad.

“Stop Yelling!”

Chloe growls, tucking her hair behind her ears. To Beca, she actually regains the perception of her sanity a little. Pity Beca wasn’t keeping her own, her hands lash out and try to catch on anything to hurt the older woman. Anything at all. She’s a hurricane of fury and pain. Chloe couldn’t handle the full force of her anger! To Chloe it just looks like… a pitiful attempt at slapping.

“Are you- Oh my god stop that.”

Irritated she forces her own arms around Beca’s hands and slams them to the ground either side of Beca’s head. Beca pulls with all her might to try to free herself, but with little success. Fuck. She calms herself a little before she realizes that Chloe is literally straddling her. Beca feels a flush creep up the side of her neck. Chloe has a look of such severe irritation on her face, that’s its actually pretty cute.

“HEY!”

Chloe’s head tilts upwards as she spots that the two owners of the hotel have emerged. A dark skinned and slightly port-bellied man and his wife, presumably, both in their late fifties waddle their way over to where they’re both rather inappropriately lying. Change of plans. Slowly she removes her hands from Beca’s arms. The man is holding something short and stumpy in his right hand. It looks like a gun of sorts. Chloe keeps it cool.

“What’s going on here?”

The woman interrupts. Chloe’s decided on a plan of action within the 5 seconds she’s actually been given. Steeling herself, she leans forward and very seriously whispers in Beca’s ear.

“If you tell either of them the truth, or if you don’t play along with everything I have to say, I will kill them. Understand?”

Beca’s eyes widen in shock. Chloe beams at her sweetly but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Chloe gets of her and stands up. Dusting off her Clothes. Beca is left to actually process the concept that Chloe would just assassinate innocent people so easily.

“Sir, ma’am.” Chloe flashes the most charming grin she can manage.

The man lifts up a double barrel shotgun in response. Holy shit. Beca thinks.

“The woman said… what’s going on?”

Every so slowly and respectfully Chloe raises her hands into the air, just high enough to signal that she doesn’t want any trouble. She nods her head and glances at the car. Thank god she’d bought her belt as well as her vest.

“Sir, my name is Rachel Chastain. I’m an agent with the Federal Government.”

She glances down at Beca, who she’s noticed is still a tad shaken, and of all things is still on the floor? She shakes her head at her in disappointment. Motioning with her head for Beca to stand the hell up.

“And this is my citizen informant, Rebecca Mitchell.”

Beca scrambles to her feet and tries to speak. It comes out in the form of guppy impression. Chloe sighs and resists an eye roll.

“You’ll have to forgive my partner. She has bad social anxiety. “

“Federal government eh? Where’s your ID?” The woman asks.

“In my belt, if you’ll allow me to get it?”

The woman looks at her husband, then back at Chloe, and quietly nods. She notices how the man shift the gun in his arms. There was an itchy trigger finger on that one. Noted. Slowly, Chloe moves her left hand down to her pocket, and nimbly flips open her ID. She stretches it out in front of her and watches closely as the woman squints forward to verify her claims. Not that she would find any ID flaws on the legitimate article.

“What are you all doing out here?” The woman questions again. A bit less venom in her voice this time.

Chloe shifts uncomfortably. Beca notes how easily acting came to this woman, there was some pretty serious talent there.

 “I’m sorry ma’am I’m afraid that’s government business. But I assure you, it’s nothing to worry about. It has nothing to do with this fine community you’ve got here. We’re just passing through, needed somewhere to stay.”

“But all the tackling and yelling…” The husband speaks, dropping the weapon back down to his side. Beca releases a tense breath she had no idea she had been holding in.

Chloe scratches her head and looks a tad sheepish.

“Sorry, I-  that was just a drill protocol on car escapes. Beca didn’t do too well.”

The man and woman whom Beca assumes to be man and wife look on at her in pity. She’d be mad but Chloe happened to be right on this one. It was not her proudest moment. If only they knew this woman was a fraud. Who would seem like the one to be pitied then?

\----

The two owners were called Owen and Juniper Lansbury. They were in fact, a couple who had bought the hotel 6 years ago with their retirement money, and who had hoped to turn the place into something wonderful. It had been tough, they said. Much harder work than they had anticipated. They had thus far managed to re-do the kitchen and reception areas and were desperately hoping to re-furbish the bedrooms all by the end of summer. Apparently, they’d actually started the refurbishment two years prior and it was only just now coming to an end. Chloe admired their persistence and resilience. The hospitality business really sounded like gruelling work. Apologetically, they mentioned they had no twin rooms because of the work that was going on. Those were the first to be addressed for renovation, being the most popular for rentals and all. Apparently, they mostly got hikers up here in the summer, and groups of young teens and college students. There was the occasional young couple too, that had a low budget, but little other than that. They offered the two women the only set of adjoining rooms instead, that Chloe had to take now her whole ‘couples’ idea was blown. Not that she was bitter about the sixty bucks extra in expenses… but she was a tad. The spending spree she’d incurred on Pieter’s card now seemed like much more of a waste.

Chloe fumbles with the key to their rooms as Beca leans against the wall beside her. They had finally gotten free from the Lansbury’s clutches after having been charming for the first half hour of their arrival. Chloe had buttered them up _hard_ in order to make her alibi a bit more believable, but that meant she had to keep up this charade with a more intensity that she would have liked. When she finally pushes the door open Beca barges straight past her, rather roughly pushing her to the side. She doesn’t speak a word. Chloe pushes down her annoyance.

Beca hears the door behind her slam as she limps over to the bed. There was a pain in her side that had become increasingly more obvious ever since Chloe had decided to treat her like an enemy quarterback out in the car park. It was obvious the adrenalin was wearing off. Ugh what the hell had happened? She touches her fingers to her side, only to find that she feels something moist. Beca raises her hand to her field of vision and finds them covered in blood. Her eyes widen in surprise. What the hell? When did that happen…

“Oh shit.” She looks up to find a panicked Chloe staring at her side. Instantly the blonde is on the floor by her knees. “I can’t believe I didn’t see that in the car, you’ve been unconscious for like three hours.”

“What is it? Is it serious?”

Chloe glances at her, and cocks her head.

“If it were, you’d be dead by now peaches. Sorry.”

Peaches? Beca is suddenly aware of the fact that Chloe looks exhausted. The still open cut on her lip, and the bruising under her eye, suggests that what had gone down after Beca had been drugged truly was as epic as the hitwoman described. How the hell Chloe had managed to win against six (plus?) assailants Beca had no damn clue. She wasn’t sure she was keen to find out either. Chloe reaches for the hem of Beca’s shirt and instinctively Beca swats her hands away. Chloe’s hands go defensively into the air.

“it’s okay. I just want to see how bad it is, so I can treat it.”

“No, you don’t _perv_.”

Beca responds. Chloe obviously smiles this time. This girl was kinda tough. She had a stupid habit of being consistently sarcastic to someone who could potentially kill her and now she was cracking jokes at the expense of a personal flesh wound? Beca would make a great merc. If only they’d met under different circumstances. Maybe Chloe should get an assistant?

“I need to treat you before you get infected and die. Also, it looks bad on my resume to have a wounded hostage when I specifically promised no maiming.”

Beca shifts away from her, clearly uncomfortable with Chloe’s choice of words. She shouldn’t be surprised. She had that effect on people she worked with too. If you counted hostages and hits as co-workers. At least command and Aubrey weren’t afraid of her. Chloe’s gaze moved up the brunette’s bare arms. The tension within her body was obvious. Beca was definitely afraid. The reaction just made her feel even more worn out. If Beca had any idea what Chloe had just spent all day doing for her, who she had just saved her from the clutches of, maybe her thinking would be a tad different. A bit more grateful.

“You maim people?”

“Sometimes.” Chloe answers.

Beca lets another gasp of pain out as she shifts back down the bed. Back towards Chloe. She wasn’t entirely sure if the blonde was serious or not, but Beca sure hoped she was kidding. The tiniest pang of guilt makes its way into Chloe’s heart at the sound of her pain.

“Let me treat you.” She softly offers again.

“Like I have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” Chloe answers quietly. It sounds like she’s not actually referring to the treatment of Beca anymore, and Beca doesn’t really know what to say to something that was potentially pretty deep coming out her kidnapper’s (original kidnappers? O-K’s?) mouth. So, she accepts. She’s honestly all manner of overwhelmed after today. She feels like she should sleep now. But not that she could, after Chloe had injected her with that… stuff.

Beca watches the woman get up and rifle into the carrier bags she had bought and lain on their temporary coffee table. With a flick of her wrist Chloe throws two bundles of cloth in Beca’s direction. She oomph’s rather loudly when they hit her in the face; and with a face like sin she shoves the clothes to the side, not giving them a second glance. She watches as Chloe removes a translucent green medical kit from the bag next. Beca can just about see the gauze and bundle of cotton buds inside. The box itself makes a satisfying crack as Chloe flicks open its clasps. Beca makes a face of disgust to herself, as she actually lets the blonde pull up the hem of her shirt. Beca winces as she feels Chloe pull the cotton-tee off the abrasion, of course it had gotten fucking fused to her cut. This was a low moment really. Really low, she felt like she had let some badass, takes-no-shit version of herself down. Letting a kidnapper treat her… Jesus… Blondie sucks in a deep breath.

“What?” Beca asks alarmed. Chloe chuckles.

“Nothing, I’m just fucking with you.”

“ _Asshole_.”

“It’s just a graze. More wide than deep. Definitely not from a bullet. Here.”

Chloe hands her a small bottle of [redacted] vodka. Ummmmm. Why did this woman always leave her in a state of more alarm than calm?

“Feel free to take a swig. I was going to use it as a pain killer for like, _genuine_ emergencies.” Chloe teases.

Beca doesn’t pick up on it. _Such_ an asshole. Saltily, and without breaking eye contact, Beca unscrews the lid and gulps what she would estimate to be a triple shot in one go. It burns. God, she forgot how bad [redacted] vodka really taste. It was like chugging nail-varnish remover. She somehow manages to keep her face straight. Chloe’s expression is minorly surprised.  She doesn’t say anything as she takes the bottle back from Beca and pours some of the liquid onto the cotton wool. Quite forcefully she applies the pad around Beca’s cut. Beca can’t stop the involuntary hiss that escapes her mouth. MOTHERFU-

“It may be a bit worse than I’d implied.”

Beca was going to physically murder this woman, it was decided now. The idea had been there since she had first woken up tied to a chair, but the concept of doing of it was rapidly becoming concrete. With the fucked-up justice system this country held, backed by the fact that Chloe had kidnapped her first, there was a solid chance with the right lawyer she could serve zero jail time she was sure of it.  None-the-less, she lets Chloe finish, and gazes at the brown-stained pad when Chloe pulls away. It is also dotted with what looks like pieces of grit. Yeah, she was going to get an infection, wasn’t she?

“I got some PJ’s for us both, so, pick your choice of night-shirt. Thought we could both use a little treat after we got our asses kicked today.” Chloe hums, snapping the kit shut and shoving it under the bed. She gestures over to the bundle of clothes Beca had discarded so crudely earlier.

That was… actually a really thoughtful idea. Beca was surprised Chloe was capable of sentiment. Well, not that she would need any new clothes if Chloe hadn’t kidnapped her to begin with. Actually, FUCK. Fuck, half her wardrobe had been at that damn hotel. Shit, Beca had not even had the time to consider that. Mentally, she mourns the loss of her favourite silver jacket. Some freak was probably wearing it right now, that was _hers_. She sighs. Never-the-less, some fresh clothes were actually something her body was craving so badly right now. Beca needed something that wasn’t covered in dirt, her own sweat and… blood. She could yell at Chloe for being an ass-hat another time and when she hadn’t actually done two nice things for her. Building up rapport with a kidnapper meant Chloe might lose her guard, and then Beca could try bolting again. She laments the loss of the switch-blade pretty badly. She was so _SO_ close freedom. Grudgingly, she unbundles the first shirt, to find that not only is it MASSIVE in size, like three Beca’s could fit in this shirt alone. No joke. But also, to find that it is the tackiest thing she’s ever seen. There, emblazoned on the yellow monstrosity, in orange gradient lettering, proudly for all to see reads: ‘World’s cheapest dad.’ Wow. Her respect for Chloe plummets back to near its original levels. That is, a negative 10 on a scale of 1 to 100. Okay, the other shirt would have to do. This one, was a dark forest green, and therefore, already had a lot more promising in making its way into the BMitch wardrobe. She unfolds it with hope in her heart.

‘100% straight.’

Some ruin within her heart crumbles. Slowly she puts the t-shirt down. Beca feels dead inside.

“Chloe, did you even look at these at all?”

Beca asks a little irritated. The blondie hums and looks up. Smiling when she sees what’s emblazed on the forest green top. She snatches the unicorn and rainbow top from Beca, and actually beams to herself as she puts it against her torso in the hotel mirror. Somehow the assassin actually looks good in the monstrosity.

“Guess you’re gonna have to be the bad daddy tonight Mitchell.”

Chloe says casually. Beca’s face flushes bright red. She didn’t mean it like that-  Chloe could not have possibly meant it like that. Beca loathes that that was the first interpretation of the meaning that came into her brain. Guess the concept of father figures in general were ruined for her now.  Thanks for that, internet. Still, it was pretty amazing that some lame gay top put a ruthless psychopath in a good mood. Chloe cocks her head to the side and examines herself in the mirror again. Subconsciously Beca bites her lip. Bad fashion worked for her. Though Beca supposed on someone like Chloe, anything would probably look phenomenal. She may not respect the blonde’s career choices, but the workout it gave really paid off. Maybe if she did her hair up in a pony… as she’s thinking it, the woman moves her hair to the side. As if she’s contemplating a similar idea. Chloe spots her staring. This who scene was getting too domestic for Beca’s liking. Too _warm,_ things were getting uncomfortable. Her cool blue eyes don’t leave Beca’s face as Chloe speaks.

“You should get some rest.” Chloe comments. Beca awkwardly coughs.

“Maybe I will, but maybe later. You… actually look a lot worse than I do. No offence.”

Offence lightly taken. Chloe’s hands fall back down to her sides. She can’t be too angry with Beca though, she feels as though today she managed to sky-dive off a weather-balloon with no parachute. Plus, if Beca thought she looked messy, well she should see the poor soul Chloe had without regret kicked down the stairs. Darkly, part of the mercenary wondered how long she’d lain there for and bled. At least she was better off than the person she’d shot twice in the torso. Chloe couldn’t rightly think what the status was of the people she’d blown up by the car too. She should probably stop thinking about the potential murders she had committed today. It had a tendency to mess up her psyche when she did.

 “Do you need me to uh- bandage you up?”

Beca interrupts. -Back Beca meant. Reciprocity and all. Felt kinda weird not to offer, now Chloe had abruptly humanized herself. The offer snapped Chloe out of her reverie.

“NO!”

God no. Chloe answers disgusted. That would be weird. What a weird thing to say on Beca’s part, damn, it was like she didn’t know how kidnappings were supposed to go down like at all.  …There was something Beca could do for her though. If she wasn’t feeling like being rude and insulting her for once.

\----

“This is not what I had in mind.”

Chloe could have either chained her to a bed, or the radiator over there, but figured the bed was more comfortable. Beca sighs as she finds herself restricted by a stranger for the millionth time this week. Chloe struts past her to the bathroom with barely a glance, a hairpin held confidently between her teeth. She’s holding what look like men’s shampoo in one hand and a large greyish towel in the other. When did they get that?

“I left your mouth untapped, and gave you the remote so you can watch TV what more do you want?”

Chloe complains. Though because of the hairpin, it comes out slightly muffled. Beca didn’t know um, how about her freedom? She keeps that one to herself as the older woman enters the bathroom and disappears from view.

“How do you trust me not to scream?” she calls after her, only semi-serious.

Leaning out the doorway, hairpin now not in her mouth, the gorgeous merc frowns.

“Because if you scream, or if you call the cops? I can’t save or protect you from DSM again.”

Oh. Beca still isn’t too sure what Chloe did back in that motel, or who those people were, but Chloe made them sound bad. Hmn. It was not as if much of what they had told her was any different than what Chloe had disclosed. It seemed even, like they were going to treat her in much the same way Chloe had. The only difference between the parties appeared to be that there were more of them, than of Chloe. Heck if anything, Beca felt like she knew DSM’s motives better than Chloe’s and she had been in their custody a FAR shorter period. That revelation miffed her a bit. Surely, they had to have bonded a little through their life and death situation, even if she was unconscious? Also, was it her or did the hit-woman also sound a bit cheesed off? It was almost like she knew those guys. Beca wondered if she had worked for them and things went sour or something like that. But what did she know about private security groups? Fuck all apparently, if they illegally kidnapped people on the regular. WAKE UP AMERICA.

Beca huffs. When someone (your kidnapper), who has threatened to openly torture you uses the words ‘to protect you’ in a sentence you know your perceptions of the situation are becoming rapidly twisted. This was fucking insane. If she weren’t drugged up on… whatever was in her body, Beca was certain she would be in shock. She was largely seeing the insanity explode around her and was thoroughly against it of course, but she hadn’t panicked all that much. That couldn’t be healthy. Like at all. Beca should be a sobbing wreck now- right? Not that she really wanted to be. Nervously, Beca swallows. Consciously aware of the dropping in her mood. She grabs the remote and quickly switches on the TV. A distraction. A break down about all of this was stupid. Particularly when she still had to figure a way out of it. She needed to focus on something else, like, the news or something. Also, she would have to ask Chloe about her dad when she was out of the shower later. There was still that fucking plot hole to explain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, *now* there's no more until June. Idk I started writing this chapter then had to finish it, so, SUPRISE I'm back a tad early. As usual, thank you for all the lovely comments, kudos and bookmarkings lmao. My writing style is getting longer, hmmmn. Guess this is what happens when you actually use more descriptives. Anyway, hope you liked it, I would LOVE any feedback because I love interacting with you, and yeah. Good luck to the others of you who have exams like I do. 
> 
> Peace out, 
> 
> oxoxo


	5. Earl's Hotel (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a good fucking car-chase.

#  Earl's Hotel (Part 2)

###  Chapter 5

Lying chained to the bed, with some monotonous news programme depressingly playing in the background, paired with the soothing sounds of running water from the shower, Beca actually starts to drift toward sleep. Her day must have been wild enough to wreck her. It was only about 8:00pm. Her eye lids begin to involuntarily close, when the emergence of Chloe Beale form the shower room, with only a towel wrapped around her body snaps her back to a state of awareness. It’s not that fact that grabs her, surprisingly.

 “Your hair.” Beca dumbly states.

Chloe looks at her like a lioness might address an animal carcass. That is to say unimpressed, and possibly regretting that this was her choice of protein.

“Yeah, it’s called hair-dye.” She brushes Beca off.

“No, well yeah. But um- I mean well, its ginger.”

The hit-woman frowns at her. Beca decides to go ahead and verbalise the rest of her thought so Chloe doesn’t assume she’s as much of a dumb-ass as she has already probably presumed. She did like the hair after all.

 “It looks good on you.”

Chloe’s sour expression doesn’t alter. What the heck had Beca managed to do this time? It was just a meaningless compliment! Did this woman even have a kind side? Why did Beca keep trying to find one? She’s reminded of the time Chloe pointed a gun to her head just this morning. Oh right. So, she didn’t end up in a situation like that again.

“Thanks. I think.”

Beca swears the frown actually deepens with that remark.

“Sure.”

Beca isn’t sure what else to really say. For some reason she’s just decided to compliment her captor for one. It was true though; the ginger reality was a surprise. It made Chloe look warmer and less Scandinavian supervillenesque. Maybe the compliment was because she also lowkey felt the urge to thank Chloe for patching her up and all, as well as for agreeing to wake her up tonight in case of concussion. Damn her indoctrinated sense of good manners! She didn’t owe this woman anything! Chloe was the whole- …no, her dad was the whole damn reason Chloe had entered her life and caused any of this to happen at all. Either way she sure wasn’t thanking someone who was taking literal payment to potentially torture her. Get a grip Beca. Stockholm syndrome doesn’t explain you being a compliant jackass at all yet. Thinking of her dad-

“You might want to get some rest.” Chloe says. It feels like a distinct and pointless throw-back to their earlier conversation. Beca feels like she’s having de-ja-vu.

“What?”

“On the bed. Not tied up. There’s no need for you to be tied up when you’re wounded and I’m awake. I could take you easily enough before you got injured.”

Chloe finishes.  Wounded Beca didn’t stand a vague chance of escaping or causing any trouble that Chloe wasn’t capable of dealing with. So, with a swift motion, Beca finds the hand cuffs being removed from the bedpost, and just like that she’s gained some sort of independence again. She rubs her wrist with her other hand, to try and soften the soreness she’s surely going to feel later. Beca has questions. But now that Chloe actually mentions it she’s fucking exhausted. She couldn’t escape from here if she wasn’t feeling at her best, and the adrenalin was really starting to wear off. So, she _was_ planning on taking the offer. Beca moves to shuffle under the sheets and fluffs up the surprisingly cosy pillows this place had.

She tries not to be too shocked when Chloe circles around the other side of the bed and lies next to her, but not before she puts on her own night shirt. Chloe just strips, then and there, right in front of her, like Beca isn’t insanely bisexual. Still, this is what the communal changing room at high school had prepped her for, and breathe out, move on, and distance yourself from the gay. She mentally sighs. The both of them had probably never looked dumber that they did now. At least this is what she chooses to think at first, but the now-ginger (probably thanks to her astounding beauty and charisma) had somehow retained an air of dignity throughout the entire changing process. She could sense it in her… for lack of a better term her _aura_ her _, eu de bitch,_ well it hadn’t changed, if anything it was cooler now too. Dammit, the green top actually looked good on Chloe, Beca realizes. Fuck. Flustered, and inquiring as to the sudden close proximity of her kidnapper, Chloe explains that this apparently, was the only room with a TV, and that meant Chloe was staying in it until bed, or until Beca genuinely fell asleep at which point Chloe would have to tie her up again etc, etc, old news.

“Okay, sure, tie me up again, whatever, I have questions.” Beca interrupts. Getting back to the original point of the previous paragraph. Chloe raises a surprised brow. Beca had been dying to ask these questions for so goddamn long, but then DSM happened, and the drugging, god she never got ask Chloe to explain any of it to her clearly before all that shit happened. Was mercenary work always so intense? That was another question to ask. Beca takes in a breath.

“Why involve me in this at all? I don’t know my dad. We barely speak except when we have to, and I honestly don’t even know what you could want from him, is he in debt or something? Does he owe you money?”

“You’re telling me you were meeting him for a family dinner at a hotel, and you barely knew him?”

Chloe flatly answers, somewhat disbelievingly. Beca rolls her eyes.

“Oh, and you had a very close and nurturing relationship with both your parents growing up I assume Ms. gun-for-hire? They must be so proud.”

The blonde wolfishly grins. Beca hears herself swallow nervously. What the hell did that grin mean?

“Point taken.” She says, then cocks her head to the side. “So then… why did you agree to go?”

Beca’s blood pressure rises at the goddamn question. Not like she had been asking it herself for the last several hours she’d been in the custody of a stranger.

“Because over the phone dad sounded desperate. Now I can see why.”

“Inside voices.” The blonde hisses, whacking her nonchalantly on the arm. This relationship was definitely too casual now. Beca scoffs, her voice was barely raised. Chloe raises herself to sit on the edge of the bed. Rummaging around in the draw for something. Beca doesn’t know what.

“Look if you want money I can find some somehow. I don’t know. It’s kinda hard to think of how to get it when I’ve been kidnapped, drugged, shot and nearly blown up all in the course of a day.”

“Yeah. The day a broke college student like you could find the sort of money I’d be interested in as pay is the day I retire.”

Chloe laughs. She pulls out a cheap pink rubber ball from the drawer and starts bouncing it rhythmically against the bedroom wall. The dull thudding is instantly grating. Beca finds herself feeling frustrated. With the tone of that comment, it feels like their dynamic has regressed back to when they first met. So much for their bonding earlier. Beca strongly suspects she wouldn’t get any answers about the reasoning for her abduction from Chloe. She also suspects that Chloe doesn’t care about what she has to say on the matter. That just made the thudding even more irritating. Beca feels her jaw clench as the dull thumping continues.

“For what it’s worth, I think you should spend your retirement in _jail_.”

Beca impulsively snaps, just now realizing how annoyed at the other woman she truly is. After everything that had happened between them, she shouldn’t actually be so surprised with herself and her behaviour. Beca wasn’t the warmest person around others anyway and being forced to interact with someone who had put her through the level of shit that Chloe had, had only heightened her distrust of others she was sure.  The ball stops bouncing. Chloe turns around to stare at her, one eyebrow raised judgementally.

“I bet that insult sounded great in your head.” Chloe deadpans. Her blood pressure reaches peak height. This is why she didn’t like humans as a whole.

“You are _so_ infuriating.”

Beca seethes. Chloe seems unaffected by her little tantrum, Beca’s outburst overlooked as easily as a subtle one degree rise in room temperature.

“What’s infuriating is that bitch broke my damn phone.”

Chloe growls back, the damn ball hitting the wall with a bit more force and recoil than necessary.

No, what was infuriating is that that German goddess had somehow missed Chloe with all her bullets. Not to be dramatic but Beca would rather be in any other hostage scenario than in this specific one, with Chloe. With her perfect hair and skin, and her kind of cool leather jacket that was now hung up on the coat hanger. It looked designer. Where had that come from? Clothes bought with blood money, how did this chick live with herself? Dramatically flinging her arms to the sides, Beca moans and falls back onto the mattress.

“Are you going to tell me _anything_ that I want to know?”

Chloe pauses her bouncing a moment.

“What do you mean?”

“Like where we’re headed? When we’ll get there? What the hell you want with my asshole of a father?”

Chloe frowns, and now seems to be viewing her, with some degree of annoyance for sure.

“Kommisar broke my phone. Which, means I can’t contact my boss, which, means I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you, hence this crap heap of a hideaway we’re staying in tonight. Of course, I’m not telling you where we’re going, and I’m not telling you why we want him either, that’s not my responsibility.”

“So, you’re just someone else’s lackey.” Beca responds.

“Oh, I am so not a lackey.” She hotly, replies. Beca can tell she’s actually beginning to grate on her a little and is a mildly impressed with herself for it.

“Kinda sounds like you are.”

“I’m really tempted to knock you out again.”

Chloe threatens. Beca’s about to mutter something back, that is mildly offensive and rude, when her memory flashes back to the floor of the parking lot, Chloe humiliatingly sat on top of her, hands pinned above her head. It probably wasn’t the wisest move. In a weird twist of events, she actually spots a game of Cluedo on the shelf. Y’know what? Fuck it. Today had been weird enough as it was, why not add another unexpected activity to the list. Why pick yet another fight, when there would probably be like another ten tomorrow?

“We could always play a game to pass the time?” She offers.

“I can’t think of anything that actively sounds worse than that.” Chloe answers.

“It’s either that, or, we watch TV together.”

“I preferred you when you had a gag in your mouth and I still had wifi and a phone.” Chloe mutters, but moves toward the board none-the-less. “I get dibs over Miss Scarlett.”

“More of a fan of Miss. Peacock myself.” Beca murmurs back. But whatever.

To make things a little less... intimate, Chloe switches on the television, she wasn’t used to hosting captives that could… talk back. But then again, she never usually held them for more than a 24-hour period. Thing was, if she restricted her, gagged her? Then… that was just detrimental to her, no? She’d have to deal with Beca shitting herself, groaning and other such unpleasantries. Ugh. Why did people kidnap people? She was certain criminals didn’t sign up for day-care services, surely, they all came into this profession to avoid situations like that? So yeah, she’d settle for board games. She was totally gonna demand extra payment though. It’s what she deserved.

\----

It’s a largely uneventful evening for the both of them actually. Chloe wins the first round of Cluedo, and on the second, neither won of them guesses the villain correctly the first time around. For the third and final game, it’s Beca who wins, with a confident declaration of Miss Scarlett in the garage with the rope. Chloe scoffs, and makes a comment about the lack of creativity of using a rope in such a promising room of tools. Through the critique Beca learns some pretty useless and disturbing information. Beca tries to weasel any relevant piece of information, relating to her father, or just to Chloe in general, out of the mercenary, but Chloe coolly manages to not provide her with any meaningful answers the whole evening! It’s incredibly frustrating, but also Beca has a new tier of respect for the woman’s levels of professionalism. Eventually, she lets her line of questioning fade, and to her credit, the ginger doesn’t attempt to probe into Beca’s past in return. The only things Beca knows about the ginger for sure at this point are that she looks ridiculously good naked and has an impressive niche knowledge on how to kill people. Time passes, and before either of them knows it, its getting pretty close to midnight. Chloe announces its time to call it an evening, and actually, for once, Beca isn’t actively resisting an idea of hers.

With the lights finally dimmed, the two become invisible to eachother in the darkness. Beca feels the mattress creek under the weight of Chloe coming to lie down beside her again, and within what seems like less that a ten minute or so period she can here the ginger softly snoring. But really who could tell how long it had been? That was one of the curses of not having a damn phone at night.

“Well shit.” She whispers to no one in particular.

Chloe was sleeping like an angel. Nice bit of confidence on her end. Beca rolls away from her and onto her side only semi-irritated by the double cuffs keeping her arms anchored above her head. Fuck knows what sort of effect that shit was going to have on her circulation, or how she was going to feel tomorrow morning. Begrudgingly she’d let the gun-for-hire tie her up again. She has zero energy for mounting potential escapes tonight. Her brain felt thoroughly foggy after all it had been forced to go through today. Please, for the love of everything, she begs of her brain. _Let me go to sleep._ She just really wants her subconscious to listen to her for once.

\----

Chloe’s suddenly aware that she’s sitting up in bed and gasping in inappropriate levels of air. To the onlooker, she’s certain it’s must look like she’s somehow narrowly avoided a drowning incident, because that’s what it feels like to her as well, good god. Her heart feels like it’s trying to leap out her throat; she swallows deliberately in an attempt to keep it caged. Needlessly, it continues to bang against the bone bars of her chest in an effort to grab its jailer’s attention. _Which it has, so maybe if it would like to chill out for like, a moment?_ Her skin also feels ridiculously cold, and she realizes she is drenched in sweat. Clearly, it had happened again. Shit. She rakes an exhausted hand through her tangled locks and stills as she hears the quiet clink of metal on metal. Putting two and two together she recognises the sound as Beca’s hand cuffs almost immediately.

“You’re awake.” Chloe confidently whispers.

“…maybe.”

Beca actually thinks she’s been awake this entire time, it’s probably been hours since Chloe feel asleep. Insomnia bought on by anxiousness, bought on by being kidnapped, could be kind of a bitch like that sometimes. She hears the gun-for-hire cough awkwardly in the darkness. She also bumps her legs with her foot again, but whatever.

“How much of that did you hear?”

“All of it.” Beca casually responds. Too exhausted to even take joy in this predicament. Though she had to admit it did please her somewhat.

Chloe cringes and is super super glad Beca can’t see her right now. At least, not that well anyway. This was great, always good to look vulnerable to hostages, that didn’t at all undermine her authority over their situations. Beca can actually just about make out Chloe’s silhouette, outlined in soft orange by an outside porch light. Chloe tries to keep it casual, trying to skim past it as quick as she can.

“Damn nightmares is all.”

She slumps back into the now slightly damp and uncomfortable bedding and faces away from the other woman. Beca mentally scoffs. That was definitely not a regular bad dream. The ginger had been moaning, flailing a little even, and getting increasingly distressed, kicking at Beca a couple of times, which given the nature of the distressing visions Chloe was unconsciously having, Beca was willing to let slide. There was a name Chloe had murmured however, that Beca desperately wanted to know more about.

“Who’s Aubrey?” She asks.

Chloe doesn’t answer for a solid second.

“Go back to bed Beca.” She answers coldly, already sounding sleepy again.

Damn okay, clearly, she’d touched a nerve there. Within a couple of minutes, she’s already hearing soft rhythmic breathing that isn’t herown. Beca wishes she had the ginger’s super powers of sleep so bad.

\----

The next morning, Chloe has Beca up at 8:00am. Beca hasn’t willingly been up before 10 since her time spent at high school. Perhaps the only redemptive thing about the process is that Chloe has brewed them both coffee. Begrudgingly, she has to admit, the gun-for-hire makes a seriously good brew. There’s no cream, so, she’s forced to have it black. Which is a bit of a tbt to her college years and her last-minute essay writing. The speed at which she downs the beverage puts a bunch of hair on her chest she doesn’t really need or want. Fast forward somewhat to their post coffee reality, they’re now coming down the rickety old hotel stairs, Beca for some reason has been dumped with most of their equipment. It’s surprisingly heavy, and she wonder’s briefly is she’s holding anything in he arms that’s illegal or at least unlicensed. Not that it would really matter if the two-hotel owners somehow found out what Chloe “Rachel” was carrying. What with her impressive fabricated police persona.

Owen and his wife, are both behind the reception desk when they make it to the front counter, both beaming in that classical customer service way. Props to them, the service hadn’t been all that bad. If Beca hadn’t come here y’know… as a kidnappee, she’d certainly like to come back to the place when it was fully re-done.

“Good morning.” Owen greets them, cheerfully. “Sleep well?”

The two mutter the obligatory “Yes thanks, great coffee” etc.

Though neither of them really meant it of course.

“We missed you all at dinner. It was nice not having to cook anything however, must say.”

Owen chuckles, grabbing back the room keys Chloe has slid across the counter. Beca laments that all that Chloe had allowed them to eat were a couple of gross gas-station sandwich and some off-brand cola. These last few days she had consumed only the truest of pinnacles from the food world.

“A quiet night in was just what the doctor ordered. Perhaps the next time we can indulge in your culinary delights.”

“Oh well, just so you know Juniper makes the most wonderful sticky toffee pudding.”

“Really?”

“Oh, my husband over exaggerates, it just a simple recipe my mother taught me.”

“Now Juni, I’m sure it’s everything Owen- can I call you Owen? Insists that it is, and more.”

Chloe flashes her charming smile, and Beca has to resist calling her out on it right there. The woman couldn’t go without manipulating others for a single day. Beca drifts out of conversation onto something else that makes her feel less uneasy. She notices that behind the desk, the news is playing quietly on TV in the background. It’s almost unnoticeable, until it cuts to a scene that Beca immediately recognises. A big pit of dread forms in her stomach. Subtly her hand reaches out and brushes against Chloe’s arm.

“What is it?”

Chloe asks. Unfortunately, out loud. Her eyes follow Beca’s and land on the TV screen. Just in time for a picture from Beca’s Facebook profile and- _was that a mug-shot of Chloe?_ To flash on the screen. Not necessarily a bad thing in itself, but it was the blaring black text on yellow flashing WANTED that really put the message across. Oh, that was bad timing, and if they had seen it- Chloe whips her head back to the hotel owners. The last thing Chloe expects is Owen to reveal his shotgun from behind the stand. Did that man take the bloody thing with him everywhere he went?

“Shit.” Chloe says.

“Who are you?” Owen asks, an edge of fear in his voice. His wife has taken shelter behind him, and Chloe feels a pang of something.

“She definitely isn’t a cop, I can tell you that.” Beca unhelpfully chips in.

“I can also assure you that I’m no-one you want to threaten with a gun.” Chloe answers calmly. Before Beca’s comment ends up with her receiving a round to her unprotected chest.

“You- _kidnapped_ this poor woman?” He gives a brief nod over Beca’s way. Thank god people had finally noticed what had happened. _Finally_. She’s sure her dad must have seen that she had gone missing and called the police. That, or the managers of their previous residence had finally seen the state of her room; or the cleaners had, actually there were also a lot of witnesses. Owen nervously shifts on his feet.

“It’s okay Rebecca, move over to me.”

She’s about to oblige, rather willingly actually, but that’s when she spots the distinctive black SUV coming up the drive through the window. Fucking really? This situation just kept getting suckier and suckier. Beca sucks in a breath.

“I would love to do that Owen. I really would love too, but- Chloe, I think we have another problem.”

The mercenary spots what she’s hinting at almost immediately, and ignoring Owen, she steps around the counter and peers through the half-shut blinds.

“Oh shit.”

“Who are they?”

“You two might want let us go now, or your nice new hotel is gonna get shot up really bad, and trust me, you’d rather it was by _me and you_ than us and them.”

To his credit Owen has a big pair and chooses that moment to buck up against Chloe’s not so subtle threat. Beca isn’t sure whether or not to reprimand him or be grateful.

“Not until you release Beca.”

Shit Beca really has to do the right thing instead of choosing to escape now doesn’t she? If DSM come in here and these sweet hotel owner’s die as a result or get shot at least, then Beca’s gonna really feel that second hand guilt afterward. Maybe even for the rest of her life. Not that she isn’t empathetic to the cause of dying strangers anyhow but grieving for them the whole of her life as a consequence of something that has nothing at all to do with her, isn’t something she’s all too keen on. She can’t believe she has to say this.

“Please, just- listen to her on this one.” Saying the words brings bile into her mouth.

“But Rebecca-”

“I’ll be fine. Thus far been pretty okay.” She comments. As in, she still has all her extremities, and isn’t, well, dead as of yet. She thinks that’s pretty good for a newbie being introduced to the world of mercenaries. “I’ll be fine, I promise you.”

That was a thing she definitely shouldn’t have promised.

“Look, if you think I’m bad, I can assure you these guys are worse, and unlike me, they’ll happily kill you and take Beca no questions asked. And if you let us go, then I just might be able to stop them from torching your home to the ground.”

And there’s that dramatic switch in characterisation that would shock just about anyone. For a brief period, the hotel owners seem generally quite stunned by the rapid escalation of potential violence and are silent. After a period, Owen looks like he’s finally made up his mind but Chloe puts out a hand to stop him.

“Wait stop, don’t move.” Chloe interrupts.

Beca’s heart plummets. She can see them too. The red dots on the hotel owner’s chests. Oh my god.

“Oh no.” Beca whispers.

“Don’t move.” Chloe repeats, somewhat softer. “And stay calm. You’re gonna have to let me go, they’ve got snipers on you.”

“What?” Juniper says, sounding absolutely horrified.

“On your chests is a red dot. It belongs to the guns of the people outside-”

“Oh my god, honey, they’re telling the truth.”

“Please. I know we’re not who you though we were but- we know those people. And they’re not on our side, and they’re not the police either.” Beca also argues. Owen lowers his shotgun in absolute dismay.

“Who _are_ you people?”

That’s what Beca wanted to know too. Instead of answering she just watches as Chloe rummages through her bag. She assumes the agent is looking for her weaponry and is correct.  Chloe clunks the two heavy 1911’s on the table and continues fishing about, also removed are three spare ammo clips, a small hand gun Beca hasn’t seen before that could easily be tucked away in a boot, and a rather large jungle knife. Chloe sighs.

“If we go out with any of these, DSM will shoot us on sight.”

“What about that thing?”

Beca gestures to the small gun. Chloe shrugs at it dismissively, her hand instead loitering back over one of her damn pistols. She couldn’t leave them BOTH behind. She pretends to drop something, and ducks behind the protective wall of the counter, and rather unsubtly proceeds to drag off one of her pistols. Now, if there were no blinds, this would have been a highly ineffective, and vastly stupid manoeuvre. But actually… Beca finds herself thinking. Their hunters may not actually have been able to see it. Chloe’s basic plan may actually work. The ginger grabs the pistol and shoves it in the back of her trousers. Hoping it will at least be sealed to some degree by her newly acquired leather jacket. It’s a semi-suicidal move.

Springing back up, Chloe grabs her other pistol and raises her hands in the air before she calmly places it back on the table. Beca assumes this is a message to the DSM agents that’s she’s planning on emerging unarmed, which, is a blatant lie of course. A horribly terrible idea. Beca thinks it’s a _dreadful_ idea, personally. But it’s admirable, actually, that the ginger is thinking of others for a second by mock surrendering, but what about _them_ this time around??? Her timing was all over the place. One gun??? How was she going to take these guys with ONE gun?

Chloe’s mind is racing. She needs to come up with a plan, this was an intense thursday morning, even for her. She makes a point to angrily side eye the wanna-DJ, it’s like Rebecca Mitchell was cursed or something, disaster ensued everywhere the ginger took her. The sooner she got rid of this girl the better, and with the dismissal the hopefully her expected life span would increase again to a reasonable level. _Plan_ , a plan she needed a damn plan. Come on Chloe, _think_. In a lightning flash moment, one comes to her. Well. Kinda. It’s good enough. Maybe. Eh, she would figure out the rest later. A tad aggressively she grabs Beca by the arm.

“I’ve got a plan. Come with me.”

Beca nods in relief. She knew Chloe would come through for them eventually.

\----

It really is awkward with the height difference between them, Beca’s up on her toes to make sure Chloe’s headlock doesn’t full on strangle her. It would be easier if she had a set of free hands to a least get her to lower her grip, but no she needed to carry their luggage out apparently. She shifts again to try and get more oxygen down her gullet as they shuffle over the threshold of the front door. Chloe fucking insisted in holding Beca in front of her despite being gunless in an attempt to use Beca as a goddamn human shield. Apparently, it was a method to ensure they didn’t just shoot Chloe then and there on the spot, and was _mutually beneficial_ therefore, in the long run. Chloe being Beca’s only chance of not being kidnapped again-again… again. The only form of defensive offense Chloe actually had left, after showing DSM she had put down her guns.

_“They’d never kill you they need you.”_

Chloe whispered to her as she developed her quick plan to protect the two hotel owners. Beca really didn’t believe her commentary, but this was very much a catch-22 situation as all of the options available to her seemed to result in death so… what did she really have to lose? She manages to give one last witty quip before they make their way into the parking lot.

“Can’t we just have a period longer that 24 hours without these morons shooting at us?”

Chloe decides to ignore the brunette’s complaints and focus on trying to get out of this very fucking awkward situation they’d somehow ended up in. Not that Chloe hadn’t been in worse, but this is the first time she was in a situation with someone completely and utterly hopeless. She quickly eyes up her opposition and counts a total of six opponents. Two behind Bianca, two with rifles still trained on the hotel owners as well as Pieter, and one other DSM lackey she hadn’t seen before. Chloe can’t help but notice they’ve only got one car and grins to herself. She must have really done a number on them with that grenade. DSM had resources, and more than enough moolah, but you needed more than an 18-hour period to purchase a full new fleet of bullet proof, and blackened SUV’s she was sure.

Pieter steps around from the side of Chloe’s (his) car.

“ _Ah!_ Chloe. We pleasantly meet once again.”

“Where’s Kommissar?” Beca asks innocently, and a little warily for measure.

“Out of commission, I assume.” Chloe answers for him, for some reason gesturing to her facial area. Beca flinches. Pieter makes a face. She probably didn’t want to know. Scratch that, she definitely didn’t want to know what Chloe had done. Eugh really? Facial mutilation? Beca was gonna throw up a little in her mouth at the image.

“How did you find us?” Chloe continues.

“Quite simple really. A tracker. Under my car. Kind of embarrassing on your end that you didn’t check.” Pieter answers, also ignoring Beca’s question.

Wow. Really? Beca looks at her a little disappointed. Like Chloe was the only one who didn’t check their car for potential trackers. Serious breech in employee trust on that end. If CR tried to track her car, Chloe would deck her where she stood. That was a fair enough answer though. That was on her, she really should have checked for anything unusual about the piece. She was just such a pretty thing… back to the conversation.

“Isn’t it sort of a dick move, targeting an innocent couple of hotel owner’s just to get me to come outside?” Chloe casually quips.

“Bit of a dick move of you to shoot Carla and shove her down the stairs, wasn’t it?”

That… was a fair and justified response.

Pieter half-shrugs, like he didn’t really care too much what Chloe had done to Carla, which, again, was a sign of bad employment. At least the Bella’s gave a damn about one another. Chloe was fairly certain each of the girls would at least take a bullet for her, and certainly, she would for them. God she really hated DSM and their philosophy. Pieter continues.

“We’re mercenary’s, we don’t do nice. I’m sure Kommissar would agree, despite what you did to her.”

Chloe rolls her eyes at the judgemental comment. Yeah, their encounter in the parking lot had gotten pretty graphic. What about it? As far as she was concerned, Kommissar had started it.

“I mean, she had a _Desert Eagle_.”

He shrugs.

“She likes the American product.”

Beca feels like this conversation has become a little side tracked, so coughs in order for them to get back onto… whatever this was before.

“Anyway, I just came to retrieve my car. Really thought you would have abandoned it, but now I see you have Beca too, and no gun! This is… this really is a good day for me I must admit. I’m going to look great by the end of this.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that.”

“Beca drop the case.” Peiter demands.

Beca does as she asks. The black duffel bag smacks to the floor with an unpleasant slapping sound.

“There weren’t any guns in there asshole, only my clothes.” Chloe complains.

“I wouldn’t care about your clothes at this point miss Beale, what I would care about, is how exactly you are planning on getting out of this situation alive?” He gestures to Beca. “You can’t hold on to your human shield forever.”

“And your men can’t point their guns at me forever.” Chloe fires back. Beca senses some… excitement in her voice? Was Chloe on some sort of thrill high right now?

“As gesture of good faith…”

Pieter gestures for the automatic wielders to lower their weapons. At its heart it’s a pretty empty gesture, considering they still possessed their guns, but Beca feels a little bit safer than she did ten seconds ago. At least the two-hotel owners were safe(ish) now.

“Give me the girl and I’ll let you live.”

Beca scoffs at the offer. Chloe would never hand her over. There was no way. Considering the danger she had put herself in to get a hold of Beca in the first place, there was no way Chloe would just give her back to the very people she’d fought against. Right? That’s what Beca thinks at least, but when she looks to Chloe for reassurance she actually sees that the ginger might actually be considering it.  Oh god, the ginger didn’t actually have a plan about how to get out of this at all.

Admittedly, Chloe Beale did not in fact have a plan. Most of the time, regarding missions at least she has one for sure, but that’s more at the insistence of Aubrey. Of course, she follows these plans, because Chloe knows how impulsive she can naturally be, and is aware of the dire consequences that can result from her nasty character trait. From time to time though, her damned free spirit could come in handy. Especially when it came to improvisation in the field. There was no doubt held by herself or her commander that Chloe was a goddamn master at successfully navigating the insane. Chloe kind of needed to be, when she kept encountering it. She was kinda hoping her improv would kick in at any moment now. Usually it came into place much earlier, though thus far there hadn’t been much of an opportunity to weaponize it. This is where other factors needed to come into play. I.e. some circumstance of fate to help a gal out. Sometimes, just sometimes in life and death scenarios like this, the unexpected happened. Instances like that had saved Chloe dying in at least three different past situations. She at least hoped she deserved one more miracle moment before god decided to off her once and for all.

Seconds after this thought has entered her head, there’s a blast and the distinct sound of a shot-gun, and a bloody hole appears in SMG wielder number 2, and Beca watches on horrified as he crumples to the ground. Releasing a small scream at the sight. Beca’s horrified yelling momentarily distracts SMG wielder’s number 1, and Chloe grins from ear to ear. Chaos moment, the window of opportunity she’s patiently been waiting for had finally revealed itself to her. Chloe moves forward, and in one swift motion, rather simply wrestles the gun of SMG wielder 1, flipping the gun and smacking him brutally in the skull with the butt of the rifle. Beca’s recovered and watches with a pale face as she releases a short burst of bullets into his chest. What the fuck had she just shared a room with.

Pleasantly unaware of all that’s going on with the DJ, Chloe twists and aims for Pieter. Pieter takes notice, and in one smooth motion rolls over his car bonnet, and dives behind its protective covering. Chloe’s heart nearly breaks as she sees what she has to do. Ohhhhhhhhhhhh she does not want to shoot that pretty thing up. But with a huge case of reluctance, she starts to fire, hoping to supress him at least whilst she finds Beca some cover or something. It’s quite heart-breaking listening to the car windows smash and seeing her bullets tear up the push leather interior. This hurt infinitely more than cutting down a few DSM stooges. She knew her emotional attachment was dumb, but Chloe really liked that car.

“Not the car!” Pieter cries out as she shoots lets of rounds in his direction. A couple ping and hit the one behind the bonnet in the shoulder, sending her crashing to the floor. She lets Pieter dash to the better cover of the SUV and in a counter-intuitive move, frantically runs toward the Chevelle as fast as she can.

“Beca! That way! NOW.”

“What!?!” Beca frantically yells. Still coming to terms with the insane brutality she had just witnessed. Oh my god, if this is what Chloe was like with just a few enemies… oh my god everything Chloe had told her about what had happened yesterday, everything that had been described with horrific graphic detail, hadn’t been a lie or been exaggerated like she imagined.

“Beca, _MOVE_!” Chloe yells, sprinting past her and firing into the black SUV parked opposite. Finally, her legs seem to respond and she finds herself chasing after the ginger. She starts mumbling a prayer or something, its more just the word _don’t_ on repeat to try and deter any stray bullets from hitting her. Chloe’s already flung open the door and is bundling herself into the driver’s seat. She jamming in the keys, the engine’s on.

“Wait!” Beca cries out in dismay. It looks like she’d going to drive off. _FUCK_.

“Backseat, NOW!” There’s a look of such burning aggression in her eyes, Beca honestly just panics. Flat out, and rather embarrassingly she dives, actually dives, through the shot out back door window. Only managing to get half of her torso in on the first attempt.  Chloe’s looking over the back seat to reverse, sees all this and floors it anyway. Beca screams again as she drags herself through the front window, flinching in pain as she realizes that her palms contain miniature shards of glass.

“Chloe!” She cries out, feelings of terror, shock, and a tad of anger all rolled into one. This was a completely new emotion to be feeling. Beca wasn’t even sure there was an appropriate word in English for levels the stress she was experiencing right now. DSM had seemingly got their shit together Because she can hear the sounds of bullets ramming into the trunk of the car. They were going to die. She was going to die in the back of a sports car with some random chick, being chased by some goth styled hit-men / women. _What the fuck._

“Kind of busy here, Becs!”

The car lurches forward and starts to speed down the dust road, Beca yelps and falls back into her seat, deciding immediately to strap on her fucking seat belt. She makes the mistake of looking back over the rear window (also shot out in case you hadn’t realized) and makes awkward eye contact with a very angry German man. Also, she can do is weakly smile as he yells what she assumes is obscenities in her direction. Her smile turns to a frown, why the hell is he yelling at her? The real person to be mad at here is in the driver’s seat! She turns back to Chloe in infuriation. Brushing her windswept hair out her face, Beca saltily announces the words she’s been wanting to say to the ginger since they’d fucking met. And she explicitly means every word she says.

“I just want you to know that I fucking _hate_ you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished exams!!!! Fun fact for you, the last three effing chapters were supposed to be ONE!!!! But somehow became 14,000 words. Yikes. As usual, would love any kudos, bookmarks and comments to be flung my way.


	6. Ciao, Bellas!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the family.

#  Ciao, Bellas!

###  Chapter 6

The following car chase that ensues is without a doubt one of the most thrilling experiences of Chloe Beale’s life. In fact, the whole thing is satisfyingly on par with the exciting imaginary adventures she had dreamed up as a child. Albeit in these fantasies, Chloe had imagined her future occupation as being a stunt double to the stars, and the epic chase scene occurring safely on a movie set. Chloe knows being a stunt double isn’t _safe_ safe, but at least the bullets involved in that scenario would have been fake. All you need to know, is that some off-road action occurred when swiftly vacating the town via the hillside. There was also a bit of driving on the wrong side of the dual-carage way and some friendly jostling with the DSM SUV. In this second half of events, Chloe also managed to get in some use of her 1911, when Pieter mistakenly tried to roll down the car window. Chloe chuckles as she remembers his shotgun’s frightened yelp and frantic motioning to pull up the window again. Then, the idiots tried to swerve away from her, and of course they were already on the wrong side of the road… so a collision she supposed, for the one of them at least was inevitable. Their car would be fine. Re-enforced as it was, Chloe held more concern for the vehicle they’d hit instead. Chloe grins even harder. Even if it was a monster cargo-truck.

Of course, the whole thing would have been far more enjoyable if _Beca_ weren’t in the rear, cussing and screaming the entire time. At first it was mildly entertaining, but after a while it became a major buzz-kill. Blue meets blue as Chloe finally makes eye contact with her captive in the rear-view mirror. She looked, like a spoilt infant almost, brow furrowed and arms crossed in an infuriated huff. Chloe cocks a lightly amused head to the side. Beca wants to slap her so hard the excited twinkle in her eyes permanently ceases to shine.

“Still mad Becs?”

 _Still …mad?_ Um, _YEAH_. Beca was mad, Beca was _furious_ , what the actual fuck was that? How the actual fuck had all of that happened? When did Owen to decide to shoot off his gun, and nearly get all of them killed? When really, it had just been Chloe who had been at risk of being murdered before. That would’ve been fine, everyone would have been indifferent to the outcome of _that_ scenario. And afterward, with the car dive, oh my god, Beca had spent most of her time since things had finally calmed down, picking small shards of glass out of her palms, and wishing they still had that [redacted] vodka for her to clean out her cuts. She was sure at least a few of them were going to go septic or something. Gross. She wants to scream at the ginger again, or at least snap, but somehow manages to control it. It hardly seemed to annoy her and would seem she never listened to Beca anyhow. So, really, what was the point of it all anyway. Instead she settles for a death glare.

“Where are you taking us anyway?”

She asks, glancing at the nearest road signs. They’d been travelling in silence for the last two hours or so. It was getting pretty tedious, if Beca’s honest. This road… looked weirdly familiar but she couldn’t exactly place it. Like she had seen it in a photograph or something.  “ _Welcome to Barden City!”_ The next sign reads, as if placed to her question, and her stomach plummets. Not this shit hole. She’d heard on the news about the corruption at Barden. The deep divide between its poorer districts and its privileged. Not to mention is was home to the very university her loathsome father had decided to set up shop at. For that reason alone, Beca was not a fan. He’d offered her a scholarship to Barden, but Beca had instead decided to debt herself ridiculously in defiance and had attended NYU. Not that she regretted that decision at all. There was no better place in the entire world, so far as she was concerned to receive and education in music. This was of course, factoring in the reality that she definitely did not belong in the ranks of Julliard.

“Into the city.” Chloe seems to confirm one of her biggest fears.

“You… the Bella’s. You’re based in Barden?”

Of all places to house a mercenary group, Barden would not be one of the ones Beca had guessed. This was partially because calling it a city at all was a pretty large push. Large town maybe, sure but with less than 280,000 citizens calling it a “city” seemed far-fetched. 

Chloe was impressed that Beca had correctly figured out where they were going to the Bella’s base, when she had in fact, only decided this herself half an hour ago. It was either this, or the Bella’s safe house which was another two hours out in the countryside, and considering the level of tired Chloe was right now? That definitely was not going to be an option. There was always of course… her own definition of a safe house, but Chloe only intended to use that location if and when she was truly out of every available option. Thank god it hadn’t come to that yet, and hopefully it never would.

“Can we at least stop for Krystal?”

 _Before I meet the grand-masters behind my kidnapping._ Beca internally finishes complaining, her stomach growling in hasty agreement. Chloe considers this option a moment. Not at all for Beca, but rather herself, who also hadn’t eaten today either. Y’know what? Fuck it, why not? It could be the last purchase she made on Pieter’s stolen bank card. Provided the prick hadn’t cancelled it yet.

\----

With full bellies, and a car now not only shot up, but smelling unpleasantly of French fries the two women are back on the road. According to Chloe, they’re only five minutes from their destination. Beca has to admit, that she feels significantly better than she has in the last few days. Not only has her morning hanger subsided, but she’s immensely pleased to have actually persuaded the ginger to follow one of her requests. And this particular request had thus far not resulted in violence, so, that was a double plus.

Chloe knew the fast food was a good idea. Not only was an extra-large portion of fries and a cheeseburger EXACTLY what she needed, but the large strawberry milkshake had actually seemed to vastly improve her captive’s mood. Hell, if she’d known that all it took to avoid baby-sitting a sour-puss was some cheap ass food then she would have decided on this much earlier. She flinches at the slurping sound her companion makes. Beca is oblivious as she greedily guzzles down the last of her drink. Who really knew when she would receive another meal like this?  Therefore, she concluded, every droplet needed to be savored.

Their tour of the city had become increasingly more depressing, as Chloe had guided them from the nice part of Barden to it’s industrial district. Here the pristine red-brick buildings slowly transformed into jaded brown, and the percentage of visible corrugated iron trebled in appearance, alongside the level of brown sites. Eugh, this place really needed some rejuvenation in it’s dockside, because right now, it seemed the sort of place one, no matter the age or sex, would be highly uncomfortable walking around alone in the dark. The nervous pit in her stomach begins to churn. Oh god, the Bella’s were totally based here, weren’t they? Of course, the sketchiest woman she had ever met was going to live in sketch-town, USA. Beca was the dumbest person to have assumed anything else. 

Sure enough, there’s two more right turns, then a sharp left through a long-abandoned car lot, before Beca can see their destination. A crusty old brick warehouse right at the end of Barden pier. The place was ginormous, with no visible renovations and peeling black and white paint that spanned the length of the building, between it’s second and third floor.  Which proclaimed the building to be “Alderman’s Fishery and Cannery”. Did they… was this the right place? The car slows and Chloe parks rather casually in… no existing parking bay that Beca can see. Right.

Beca sighs.

“What is it?”

“It’s well, just for once I wish you’d take me somewhere that didn’t look like its barely managed to survive the nuclear apocalypse. I thought you said this was your group’s base of operations?”

“It is.”

Maybe Beca should have gone with DSM after all.

“Right.”

Her train of thought is getting a bit repetitive.

Without answering her, Chloe makes moves to get out the vehicle, and Beca is greeted by a gust of warm summer wind as Chloe opens up her door. She’s suddenly grateful that in the shoot-out earlier, the AC had somehow managed to avoid being damaged at all, so perhaps there were such things as small miracles at least. Beca watches as the ginger moves to check out the car’s side. Beca already knows the damage is pretty awful, on her mad dash into the rear, she counted five bullet punctures to the car’s left side. Honestly, it truly is a massive surprise that no one had pulled them over on the way here. Still. At least the car wasn’t likely to be stolen looking like it did, which was always a worry in sketchy places. She starts to lightly freak when she notices Chloe lightly laugh, then descend into hysterics, and then start kicking at the car’s underbelly. Totally unexpected and really unhinged even for her mercenary. Frantically Beca unbuckles her own seat and leaps from Blanca herself.

“Dude, what are you doing?” She gasps, horrified.

She thought Chloe _liked_ this junkpile. Beca kinda did. Since she was allowed to eat junk food in it anyway. There’s the sound of screeching metal, and a dull clamour as an unknown piece of the car’s undercarriage falls onto the cracked tarmac beneath it. Beca can’t help but peak beneath to see what the fuck the ginger had deemed unimportant enough for her to assault the Chevelle. She frowns. It’s… a weird black box. She rockets back up to meet Chloe’s eyes, to hopefully get some answers.

Chloe proudly flicks a stray strand of ginger hair over her shoulder. She beams.

“That was the tracker Pieter mentioned.” Chloe breathes.

“The- the tracker? The one we probably should have disabled _hours_ ago? To make sure he didn’t follow us?”

Chloe shrugs.

“It was disabled hours ago. That’s why I’m so happy.”

“What do you mean?”

Chloe looks genuinely puzzled by her questioning.

“Why do think I took us off-road? Just for kicks?”

“Wait. So, you deliberately drove through thick forest, knowing this car would potentially not even make it through, not only to deter DSM, but also on the off chance that it would successfully disable a tracker? That you couldn’t have even known for certain would be placed there, in the first place?”

“Well, _duh_.”

That plan was for so many reasons dumb and infeasible. It was in fact so crazy, it could have almost passed for something that the legendary and fictitious Jack Sparrow himself had concocted. Beca was speechless. And yet. She held no doubt that the ginger was capable of thinking that far ahead and abstractly, like… at all. Still vaguely dumbstruck, Beca follows the older woman over to the warehouse entrance. Which consists of a rather unassuming and wooden double door, that Chloe opens with a rather generic looking brass key. The inside is painted a depressing shade of beige and looked like it needed a fresh top coat 5 or so years prior at least. It’s a pretty grim and depressing sight. Even worse is the flickering buzz of the florescent tube lighting shining on them from above. If this was the extent of the Bella’s renovation budget… money must certainly be tight. Beca follows Chloe down the hallway, which had been stripped bare, Beca noticed. She assumed this was because it had been looted years ago, before the Bellas had settled here. At the end of the hallway, both women approach an out of commission elevator.

“We gotta take the stairs I’m afraid.” Chloe comments.

Beca’s heart breaks at the revelation. She was sort of hoping the whole broken down elevator was a ruse of sorts. This was going to totally suck. Unsuprisingly it totally did. Three flights later or so, with Beca completely out of breath, they finally arrive at what Chloe calls the correct floor. GOD, Beca huffs, she really needed to find a new exercise routine. Maybe she’d try that new cardio workout she had seen advertised on a flier outside her apartment. Or maybe she’d just ask what routine is was that Chloe did in her spare time, because the other woman had barely broken a sweat. Following the mercenary down yet another beige and narrow hallway, Beca concludes that thus far, she is very unimpressed with Chloe’s workplace. The ginger stops rather suddenly in front of a rather unassuming wooden door. Without even using a key of some sort she presses down on it’s handle and disappears inside. That’s… no, that can’t be it. Beca does a quick fake jog to catch up to her, there’s no way this was Chloe’s place of work. There had to be something more high-tech involved here. This was… well it was unprofessional for sure, but the level of security a mercenary group required surely needed to be of a higher standard than this? Entering the room after Chloe she’s highly disappointed and surprised to find it bare, bar one desk and iron chair. Oh, this was just sad. _This_ was the base for the Bellas? At this point, Beca was questioning whether or not they were even real, or just a part of Chloe’s imagination.  In the grand scheme of things that had happened to her thus far, Chloe turning out to be crazy would be a minor plot twist, as far as Beca was concerned at least.

Chloe approaches the far end of the room, paying no attention to Beca at all, she approaches a green door at the end of the room that could easily be mistaken for a closet. Weird how Beca hadn’t noticed it when she had first entered. Beca expects Chloe to pull out her key, knock three times or some shit. Instead she presses a palm against what looks like regular old wall. Oh shit, did they have a palm scanner? Now _that_ was the type of high security she would expect mercenaries to have. Beca waits a moment for some magical light to appear. She notices Chloe lean all her weight in. This whole disappointing complex, had surely just been a hoax to protect the Bella’s inner sanctum. C’mon magical light. Here it went:

 _“Hey Bree, let me in!”_ Chloe yells pretty casually.

No flashing lights. Oh. Well that was pretty undramatic.

Beca finds herself deflated from her spy fantasy for a couple of seconds before she hears something metal and heavy clang behind the door. She jumps a little in surprise. No way. There’s another clang. Then something that sounds like a bolt un-sliding. The excitement begins to well in her stomach again. Beca doesn’t show it though. Oh my god was that the sound of metal gears whirring what kind of door was this? She knows she’s a kidnappee but this is getting pretty darn interesting. With a final thud the noise stops. Beca finds herself moving forward, arms defensively folded across her chest. She jerks somewhat reflexively as the handle is opened from the other side. Beca notices she’s only cowered behind Chloe when the ginger gives her major side-eye. The green door eases open with a heavy metallic groan, and the other side opens up to reveal a bright natural light.

And then there’s a woman. That’s just… stunning. There’s no other way to put it. She’s right up there with Chloe herself. Was Beca in some weird sexist spy movie from the noughties? Truthfully, being surrounded by supermodels was feeling unfair and rather unsettling to her short, average looking self.

“Oh hey Chloe, what’s up?”

The extremely tall woman greets them.

“What’s up Stace?”

Chloe curtly nods back, breezing past their greeter as she enters a frankly _huge_ space. _The inner sanctum._ Beca blinks at ‘Stace’ in brief hello herself, before she hastily follows red into the real Bella base. Beca notices the change in décor quality already. The white walls, floor, the beautiful warehouse windows, which allow in an impressive amount of light, and gorgeous view of the river and skyline. Damn.  She spins on her heels as she catches Stacie shoving the mighty door closed behind her, she’s struggling a little bit and Beca briefly wonders is she should offer to help. But that’s when she notices Chloe stalking over to what looks like an office, tucked away in the corner on their left. It’s neatly hidden behind what looks like an all glass conference room? It looks like something they’d use for like a lawyer’s meeting or something. With deluxe cushy black roller chairs, and a huge flat screen available at the one end. Gross. Too corporate for Beca. She finds herself walking after her. Leaving Stacie to go back to her pool game with another _thankfully also short_ black woman, who interestingly, had a welder’s mask resting on the felt. Well, to each their own, Beca thinks. 

Suddenly the door of the office burst’s open, and a pretty blonde, around the same age as Chloe she guesses, wheels out of the room.

“ _WHERE_ have you been?”

That voice… Beca recognizes it as the woman who had left a voice mail for Chloe, before her phone got destroyed of course.  Chloe gives a curt nod.

“It’s nice to see you too Aubrey.”

“Oh, it’s _nice_ to see me- it’s **_nICE_** to-” The blonde sends a brief glance her way, then stops mid-sentence as she does a double take. “…is that Beca Mitchell?”

“Yeah.”

Chloe says breezily. Beca can heat the blonde grinding her teeth in irritancy from here. Beca is already delighting in the many potential ways Chloe could have fucked up. Because it’s wonderfully clear that she somehow has.

“...You bought her _here_.”

The blond hisses. Like the rest of the room isn’t able to hear what they’re saying still. She does a glance back to the pool table and sure enough, the other two women have stopped playing their game and are intently focused on their conversation. Both catch her eye; the black woman gives a friendly wave. Beca finds herself waving back. Then she frowns as she realizes what she’s just done. What was it with her and being friendly with her kidnappers?

“Do you _realize_ what you’ve done?” Blondie finally snaps. Yass girl go _off_ on her. Chloe, annoyingly seems largely unaffected by the accusation.

“I got her for ransom, like we planned, and yeah there were some hiccups but-”

Chloe starts to counter. Aubrey holds an uninterested hand up to her face. She doesn't want to hear it.

“One of the guests at your motel two days ago, had a video camera.”

Oh no. Beca could tell where this was going.

“You’re all over the local news.”

Shit. Well, of course, _they_ already knew they made the local news, but it was kind of yikes that Chloe’s boss had been paying attention. Talk about a workplace faux-pas.

“You think something like this would be national at least.”

Chloe murmers back, sounding somewhat irritated Beca thinks, at the lack of attention.

“Yeah, well lucky for you Donald Trump fucked up again on twitter.”

Aubrey fires back. Chloe breathes a sigh of relief.

“God bless America.”

“Chloe, this isn’t funny.”

The gingers apologetically sighs.

“You’re right it isn’t.”

Aubrey nods in agreement, relieved that she had finally gotten the younger woman to take her at least a tad seriously. It had always been an effort. But particularly now, it seemed, the ginger was harder to pin down for serious conversation. The incident years ago had really shifted their dynamic. And the strain on their relationship was, rather tragically, only getting worse. It continuously chipped away at both their spirits a little bit. None-the-less, still in sync, they seem to re-adorn their professional personas and emerge from their bubble to address the rest of the room. They approach its center a bit self-righteously, Beca thinks, the blonde icily wheeling over in her electric wheelchair, Chloe trying too hard to appear unaffected by their interaction seconds before. The overall effect is still rather commanding though. When they finally halt, Chloe broodily crosses her arms like some reprimanded teen and the blonde gives Beca an unimpressed once over before directing all her attention to the other women by the pool table.

“CR, take Beca on a tour of the base.”

Aubrey gruffly orders, gesturing with her head for the two women to come over. It seems Beca has no choice in the matter but to go with. She doesn’t even get some form of introduction from the blonde, whom she assumes is the leader around here. Beca doesn’t assume that to be unreasonable of herself, what with the woman’s dramatic emergence from the office, and of course, the public reprimanding of her least favourite gun-for-hire. Not that she’s complaining about the tour request of course. However, it did seem an odd offer to give a kidnappee. What? No more tying her into chairs? Why was blondie's immediate response to her unwanted arrival to treat her like a guest? She would ask but, Beca didn’t fancy a show down with ice-queen over there herself yet. She already had a feeling the two of them wouldn’t get along so well. She wasn’t a geek, if this had all been in any matter fake or some sort of Hollywood fabrication for a film it wouldn’t have interested her in the slightest. But actually, being inside a top-secret spy (okay, high-end-mercenary) base, in real life was pretty cool. Credit to those film-nerds and their imaginations because the realities of what sorts of tech she had seen on screen were pretty accurate. Also, not that she would say it out loud but Beca is also pretty happy that her new tour guide was as small as she was. A light bulb pings in her head, maybe somewhere along the way she could find an escape route. Or a phone. There had to be one somewhere in here. Beca grins to herself. Just because she was suddenly being treated like a guest, didn’t mean she had to act like one.

“Can I take her _everywhere_?” CR asks incredulous. Seemingly not sensing the same bitterness Beca was.

“Sure, why not. Take Stacie too, introduce everyone.”

The blonde replies. That sounded suspiciously sarcastic, but Beca wasn’t sure. She could almost feel the mental eye-roll. Her attention switches back to CR when she spots the woman moving to stand in front of her. Enthusiastically she claps her hands together, and an almost shit eating but still smooth grin spreads on her face. She was the first Bella she had met, (other than she guessed Stacie, but Beca still wasn’t so sure about her) that actually seemed genuinely happy. It was actually pretty refreshing, Beca found herself actually looking forward to something for the first time in days.

“Nice, yes, awesome. Beca Mitchell right? Big fan of your dad.”

So apparently was everyone. She takes CR’s outstretched hand and shakes it. Damn okay strong grip.

“So, if you want to follow me through here- I mean there isn’t much to really see, but you can come hang after for a bit. I promise we don’t bite.”

“Speak for yourself.” Stacie grins.

Was the other woman just inherently sexual? A re-examination of her gloriously long legs said yes. Y’know what? Beca respected that. If you had it and wanted to flaunt it, Beca mildly shrugs to herself, why the hell not? She just wishes she lowkey had it herself a little. Also, how many more of these people were there? Chloe had never actually said. Ugh, Chloe never naturally revealed anything. She makes a move to follow Cynthia then stops briefly when she hears what Aubrey has to say next.

“ _Not_ \- you Chloe. I need you in my office.”

Beca has to stop herself from automatically turning around to see if the red-head had intended to actually follow them. She shrugs off the reaction. It’s not like they were joint at the hip or anything. Though she supposed for the last two days or so they had been, kinda. She hears the wheels of Aubrey’s chair begin to squeak with motion and feels her own movement restart with it. A little pang of nervousness makes its way quite surprisingly into her chest, considering this is probably the safest she had been in _days_. She clenches her fists and tells herself in a Chloe voice to get her shit together. It was just a tour, she could handle a tour.

Cynthia-Rose leads her to the far end of the lounge, and gestures to the open kitchen on the left. It was an admittedly weird contrast to the open white space of the lounge. It’s orangey-red tiles, and dark wooded cupboards we reminiscent of something from the 60’s. If it weren’t for the impressive looking blender, and the presence of a toaster and mini-fridge Beca would have thought it were.

“This is our coffee area, a little rustic I know, but it came with the place. It’s the original interior. I wanted to rip it out as did the others, but for whatever reason Aubrey wanted it to stay. The only changes are, we took down the surrounding walls and added some new tech. Also, the marble island is new. Gotta have a place to stand around and drink.”

Beca nods. Out the corner of her eye she hears the ding of the elevator but is too focused on the ‘tech’ in front of her to really pay it too much attention.

“And what about the-” Beca gestures to the HUGE blender.

“Oh, that’s for smoothies. Flo likes to make ’em sometimes for us. They’re super delicious. For example, look what the machine can do to this orange.”

The elevator doors, slide open.

“If you break it, you buy me a new one.”

An irritated voice announces from their left. A tall and gorgeous Latina woman steps forward from elevator. Beca catches the fond look Stacie is giving her, as she goes to get a hug from her. She took it that this was Flo? It didn’t seem that likely that every Bella was going to be super attached to this blender, right? The woman looks her up and down with some suspicion as she strolls over to the fridge and pulls out the milk.

“Make me a cup?”

Stacie pleads lightly.

“Anything for you dear.”

She hums, then glances up at Beca again. She still looks undecided about whether she likes her. Sort of how Beca originally felt about Stacie, so she guessed that was just karma doing its thing. Touché world. Beca feels a little intimidated by all these kick-ass women in one space. How the hell did they all find each other exactly?

“What about you shorty?” Flo continues.

“Um- tea. Please. I’m Beca, Beca Mitchell, by the way.”

“Florencia Camilla Susannah Fuentes. Nice to meet you.” She shrugs, her mood turning a little lighter. “But call me Flo, everyone else does.”

“Your middle name is Susannah? I had no idea!”

Flo thwacks Stacie in the side. It sounds pretty painful, actually.

“OW. But that was CR!”

“ANYWAY.” Cynthia interrupts before Flo has a chance to fully exact her revenge. “We should probably move on… to the downstairs.”

“But my cup of tea-”

Beca complains. CR shoves her onward.

“On a time, limit. Come on Stace.”

Stacie rolls her eyes at her poor attempt at an escape. She leans into Flo.

“We’ll be back for those ASAP-”

Beca sees Stacie mutter some other things, but Beca hears them all come out mumbled as she’s shoved into the tiny elevator space. She can’t help but be surprised by the choice for wooden cladding. Very 1940’s gangster. Who was in charge of the décor if this place? Oh my god, this was appalling. There was no consistency ANYWHERE. It was like some sort of funhouse. To the right of the door, there is a sort of tiny shelf, with a black screen placed above it. CR places her finger onto what Beca is now realizing is a scanner, and as the touch screen above turns green, clicks the button she assumes will take them to the floor below. As soon as the door shuts, Beca asks the question that’s been on her mind the most since they got here.

“So… what do you all um- do? I mean are you all like Chloe?”

Was there any need for an entire organisation of Chloe’s? Beca sure hoped not. At least not in a domestic setting. People like Chloe Beale belonged on a solitary, uninhabited island where there was no law system of any kind. Let the crazy roam free, and not disturb anyone. Everyone won that way. Stacie laughs out loud at her comment almost instantly. Then stops when she can see that Beca is actually serious.

“Oh. Um- we all do a variety of things to help the Bella’s, we’re not all field agents that’s _highly_ specific to Chloe.”

The door to the elevator pings open behind her and Beca swivels around to face a computer lab of sorts. Though identifying it as a lab, MASSIVELY reduced its coolness. Beca sees some huge, decked out black monitors dotted against the left and adjoining walls, and below them a _monster_ mahogany desk, with like three different seats slotted into it. All were plush leather and black and looked super comfortable, like Beca could probably fall asleep in those immediately. To the right, is a sort of open space lounge, with a small glass table accompanied by some surrounding neon armchairs. Beca’s eyebrows raise in woah factor when she notices the _wall garden_ behind them with- was that a _waterfall_ running through it? She pauses and hears the subtle sound of trickling water. Damn.

“Yeah. This is mine.” Stacie continues casually.

 _“This is yours?”_ Beca sputters in disbelief.

“I’m sort of the group computer whiz. Tech support. Hacker extraordinaire. The gal-in-the-chair.”

Stacie struts proudly forward, a hand sensually moving over the desk to her left, a cheeky smile positioned proudly upon her face. A model AND a genius? Goddamn. Consider Beca thoroughly impressed.

“Flo helps!” CR interrupts. Stacy rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, Flo’s the only one smart enough _to_ help. Like I’d let the rest of you go near _any_ of this.” Stacie scoffs.

“And you Cynthia-Rose?”

Beca asks, now super curious. Did they all get personalized spaces like this? What did a set up as decadent as this even cost? If this was their workplace, these girls must be earning hella dough. Perhaps Beca had decided too early on in her life on her chosen career path. What a kick ass place to work this was. It briefly crosses her mind that Chloe must have her own cosy little office environment to relax in too. Beca wondered if they were going to be able to get to see it.  What did a field agent even need in regard to comfort? For Chloe, Beca sort of imagined a wall of guns. Just like, and entire wall of guns, and maybe a small oak desk? Nothing personal. Chloe didn’t strike her as one to be very forthcoming about any of her personal interests. Cynthia shrugs.

“I dabble in mechanics.”

“Dabble would be putting it lightly. Cynthia is a great mechanic.”

“Then you’ll love the car Chloe picked up.” Beca hums.

“I doubt it, Chloe’s always asking me to upgrade these terrible rides, damn girl needs to show some self-respect.”

“It’s a Chevelle. ’71 this time.”

“Wait, seriously?” The excitement on her face says it all. “Tell me more.”

She probably should have lead with how badly the poor car had been shot up. Beca was worried the mechanics soul would be crushed to see a beautiful machine so distressed. She decides to not add that depressing after thought and instead chooses to let the mechanic find out that harsh truth in her own time. Beca is semi entertained by how unsuprised she is at the fact Chloe had just stolen it however. Clearly this was a common theme for the ginger.

As it turns out, Cynthia also doubles as a specialist driver, which is pretty cool in itself. Though, she isn’t sure whether or not to be concerned that the Bella’s had a get-away driver to begin with. What could they possibly need that service for? Daylight kidnappings? Bank jobs? Potential art heists?  She’s still, Beca realizes, not entirely certain about the full extent of services that these women provide. Although, Beca could vouch for the high probability of them conducting the first. Beca chats to Cynthia pretty casually as they make their way through the hallway. They had to leave Stacie behind to run some tech work. She said she had to check in with two Bellas Beca had already forgotten the full names of… what were they called? Jessica and Ashley? Who were apparently out on a field mission in New Orleans. When they’d briefly been patched through to the call on loud speaker, Beca had heard the distinct sound of Jazz music playing in the background so that was pretty cool. She should really make an effort to go out there herself one day.

They stop outside a heavily fortified metal door. That just… screams unsafe to Beca already. It has a slit in it. Not unlike a jail cell. Beca wonders who the hell wanted a room like this. She patiently observes as CR bangs on the door twice. The slit opens to reveal a pair of dark brown eyes, that blink at them silently. In the background she can hear some music playing so quietly. It sounds super familiar but like... so different. Beca can’t identify it yet and it’s annoying her.

“Hey Lily, so I was taking Beca here on a tour of the-”

The slit slams shut again. Oh-kay. Guess that’s all they were going to get from her then. Suddenly, the door opens to reveal an Asian woman with dark, twin bunned hair, dressed in a lab-coat and yellow sundress. The weird music is still playing… it sounds like an eclectic mix of beat boxing and is that… DeBarge? Lily grins at her, and so Beca guesses she must have said that outloud. She nods at her but stays silent. Interesting choice of hire.

“Lily doesn’t talk much. She does make some cool gadgets though, guns, knives, gun-knives, communication tech and off-the-wall spy gear of sorts.”

Just how exactly off-the-wall were they talking? Because gun-knives sounded like a weird one.

“Can we come in?

Flo asks politely. Lily nods, and proudly spreads a hand to show them her work space. Notably, everything is metal, metal tables, cabinets and even cladding. What is visible of the wall is heavy granite.  The floor itself is stone tile. It’s like it has been deliberately redesigned to avoid any potential fire hazards, and when Beca sees some of the complex electrics and experiments going on, the extreme precautions suddenly seem a lot more necessary. Instinctively, she reaches out a hand to touch some half-made rifle of sorts, but Flo swats her hand down before she can manage.

“Perhaps we should continue with our tour before you… break something.” Flo murmurs. It’s probably a wise decision.

They bundle themselves back in to the elevator, and when the door opens to the sub-basement Beca isn’t sure what to expect. The walls to her left and right are lined with low buzzing yellow neon and are topped with perforated steel. It’s hyper futuristic, super sleek, and just as she’s about to ask what’s beyond the stylish frosted glass doors at the end, the sound of a large bang makes her inappropriately yell in terror. She makes a questionable face at Cynthia-Rose and Flo. The taller woman is grinning from ear to ear. To their credit, neither of them speaks a word about Beca’s… mishap. For which to them she will always remain eternally grateful.

“You might want to grab a pair of those.”

CR gestures to a rack of neon-orange headphones to her right. Flo it seems has already grabbed a pair for herself and offers one to Beca. She puts them on and hears the sea. Beca smiles to herself. Through the doors, she spots a flashing white light go off in quick succession. Then she feels a tap on her shoulder and twists to see CR pointing to her ears.

“What?”

Her voice sounds muted even in her own head. She feels the muff on the left side of her head be lifted of a moment.

“DON’T TAKE THESE OFF INSIDE, UNTIL CYNTHIA GIVES YOU THE SIGNAL.”

Flo yells directly into her ear for like 5 centimetres away. _Jesus_.

“Sorry, sometimes I speak louder with these things in!”

Flo continues. From a more reasonable distance at least. Yeah, no shit. The warning had thus far been more damaging to her ears than the sound of gunshots.

Flo is the first through the door, followed by Cynthia-Rose, then finally Beca herself. Inside is a fully operational, multi-laned gun range. It was such an impressive set up that Beca was sure were the leaders of the NRA to see it, they would physically weep tears of joy. In lane number two, Beca can make out the figure of, surprise, another gorgeous woman, with sleek black hair, pulled into a pony tail, that’s dressed in full combat gear that appeared similar to Chloe’s. Navy, with a black undershirt and cargo pants. On glancing at the targets on the opposite wall, Beca’s eyebrows raise at the holes tightly circled around the chest and head areas. Holy shit.

Beca approaches behind Flo with some degree of apprehension and awe. This person was evidently a killing machine whoever they were. Potentially, they were even more psychopathic that Chloe, and Beca didn’t like that concept at all. Flo however seems unfazed by all of this and skipping up to the dark brunette, lightly taps her on the shoulder. The woman turns around and Beca is immediately stunned by how young she is. She’s younger that the rest of them certainly, by at least a couple of years. She’s also… really cute. The doe eyed sharp-shooter looks a tad embarrassed as she removes her headphones and googles. Giving them all a self-conscious grin. Flo mentions something to her and her attention switches suddenly to Beca. The grin turns into an outright beam.

“Hi, I’m Emily.”

The girl offers a hand to shake that Beca is at first reluctant to take. It’s very clear she’s all sunshine and rainbows from the get go which is pretty unnerving and totally unexpected after just hearing her release an entire cartridge straight into the head of a dummy. She seems… genuinely cute and innocent and seriously goddamn tall. Really? Was it just her and CR that were under the 5”8 mark here? She takes another look at the young woman again and feels a spark of recognition for some reason.

“You look, sort of familiar do I know you?” Beca asks.

Emily’s prefect brows raise up in light surprise.

“Oh well um, did you watch the last Olympics like, four years ago? I mean I was fourteen, and you don’t look like the type to be interested in shooting. You look to cool for shooting- not that shooting isn’t cool, because obviously, it is.”

It’s kind of adorable how she stumbles over her words. She reminds Beca of herself when she was younger. Like when she was twelve younger, not when she was 18 like this girl was about now, but still. Emily… The name suddenly registers in her brain. So does the face.

“Wait, you’re _thee_ Emily Junk.”

Beca blinks in shock. This was the fourteen-year-old bronze winning prodigy that represented the US four years ago in the rifle section.

“The one and only.” Cynthia states proudly, hugging the girl close to her side.

“Our little legacy.” Flo chips in, butting her hip into Em’s. The young girl blushes in embarrassment. The two look like her proud moms or something.

“That would be me.”

Emily mumbles, and Beca finds herself smiling fondly at the girl already. Sort of like what CR and Flo were doing. Emily was kind of nauseously wholesome. Beca kind of feels a small urge to squish her cheeks like she would a baby’s. Emily was defo the baby Bella.

“But what are you doing working for these guys? Shouldn’t you be training or something?”

Beca scoffs, the smile wipes off her face when she sees the sour looks she’s getting from Flo and CR that tells her not to push it. Emily looks fine with her question which calms her nerves a little bit. Thank god.

“Oh. Well… I am? Technically. I actually met Chloe in the Olympic village and well, she told me to hit her up if I fancied a change of scene, but I had to be 18, she said. So, I waited… I just had to get away from all that intensity, y’know? It’s so isolating to be in that training bubble.” She awkwardly scratches her head. “I don’t actually like all that media attention and stuff either, turns out being famous is seriously exhausting. So, I left my parents, to come here about… 6 months ago.”

“And you’re doing great here and we love you!” CR encourages, smushing the girl into an even tighter hug.

Emily’s story raises a lot of questions for Beca. Primarily… what the hell was Chloe doing in the Olympic village 4 years ago? What sort of mission could have possibly meant she needed to be in Pyongyang? There had to be an interesting story behind that one. And, what a badass Emily Junk was, taking the risk to move into living life with a bunch of mercenaries she didn’t really know. Gutsy. Beca respected that.

“Are you guys going up to the common room because I could really use some freshly squeezed orange juice?” Emily asks.

“Well we do still have the garage to go…”

Cynth waves the comment off.

“Another time. I’m sure Mitchell won’t mind missing out. Plus, I could really do with some biscuits.”

Beca’s tea was undoubtedly going to be room temperature at the most at this point. And she really couldn’t stand to be drinking cold tea out of social anxiety, so she was in no rush to argue or agree with CR’s claims. Flo murmurs something about being the only competent beverage maker of them all, and how the rest of the Bella’s should be banned from her kitchen, as they pile back into the elevator and return to the “common room” as Emily had named it earlier. Meanwhile, CR responds to Flo with as just a passionate a counter argument about "communi-tea". It's super entertaining to listen too, and she finds herself rallying mentally behind CR's cause, despite the dumb name.

Lead back out to the lounge, Beca finds the rest of the Bellas (Stacie and Lily) had emerged from their hide-outs and were already in the midst of a coffee break themselves. Gathered round the marble island with a steaming cup of Joe placed central. Stacie catches her eye and mischievously beams.

“So, what do you think of our humble abode?”

She wiggles her eyebrows, and Beca stifles a slight laugh.

“What do I think? I think this place is amazing.”

There is a small cheer from the group and at that Beca does allow herself a small and goofy grin.

“One thing though, where are all the dudes?”

“Right? THANK-you Beca. A girl after my own heart.” Stacie moves around to clap her on the shoulder.

“Um, you’re dating Flo who’s like, right there.”

CR complains. Flo unimpressed rightly raises an eyebrow in Stacie’s direction. Stacie blows a playful kiss at the woman and Flo beams and sends back a wink. How had Beca slept on that chemistry? She shakes her head. For some reason Beca decides quite quickly that she likes this group of women. Heck, even Commander McGrumperson held appeal, (whom she had been informed by CR was called “Aubrey”) because she had somehow bought them all together in a way that clearly worked. Interestingly too, she had done this with the help of Chloe, which was the real surprise. They were an odd bunch for sure, but Beca was kind of a weirdo too. It was certainly a label she could understand. If Beca were the type for friends... she would certainly like a group of people in her life that were like this.

“Actually, we have a pretty solid explanation for that one…” Stacie begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I said beginning of June... but yeah. I have a life lmao. Also Flo x Stacie (Flacie?) just... sort of happened? and I LOVE it. I know it's rogue, but I'm totally gonna build on that at some point. As usual, feel free to kudos, comment, and bookmark away! I love responding to, and hearing from you <3 If ya wanna chat more gay shit with me on tumblr, check me out at hopepunking. My inbox is always open.
> 
> OXOXOXOXO


	7. The Complicated Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exposition. SO much exposition.

#  The Complicated Truth

###  Chapter 7

In Aubrey’s office, Chloe is very quiet; which Aubrey finds rather unsettling. It’s unusual for her best friend to be so on any occasion, even when upset, so this scenario is mildly disturbing to say the least. Though, with the news that Aubrey Posen had just broken to her, she supposed Chloe had a justified excuse for not feeling all that chipper. Admittedly she wasn’t best pleased with their most recent development either.

“Chlo?”

It takes the ginger gun-for-hire a moment to unstiffen. Earlier, when Aubrey had suggested that CR take Beca on a tour, rather than lock her in the conference room or something; Chloe had immediately become suspicious. Her curiosity quickly replaced any angst she felt over the commander’s highly-publicized roast. Not that she was taking it too personally, the women’s 6-year friendship had suffered and survived much more turbulent episodes in the past which the crew was equally aware of. Beca baring witness however, that was a little more embarrassing to herself than she assumed it would be.

“I can’t believe this.”

“Neither can I.”

“So that whole thing, these last few days… were all for nothing? All those _people_ I killed…” She murmers bitterly.

Well, had maybe killed. Chloe didn’t know if she’d murdered them for certain; and it’s to be noted, that she wasn’t too concerned about ethical implications of this. Rather on her mind, was the rapidly accumulating potential jail-time she now faced in Georgia. Chloe had honestly lost track of the total number of life-sentences she hypothetically owed the states. Actually, considering the total of all her misdemeanours, how she’d thus far avoided a prison sentence all together _anywhere_ , was pretty miraculous. Although admittedly it was much easier to avoid jail when your face wasn’t spattered across every form of news outlet. She should probably keep her head down for a while. Chloe awkwardly shifts where she’s standing and moves to to cross her arms over her chest.

“Well, they were trying to kill you.”

Aubrey hums back. Trying, but not too hard, to offer her some form of comfort. The threat of imminent death was a pretty admissible reason to fire a gun at someone in her mind at least. Eyes flicking up to Chloe from her computer screen, she can see the ginger doesn’t really seem to be fully engaged in their conversation. She’s no doubt lost in her memories of the last few days, slowly replaying every moment of her mission, frame by frame. Spacing sometimes was how Chloe processed things now, but it never used to be.

Chloe sighs dejectedly.

“Well normally I’m not tricked into killing; that’s why I like this job. We get cases that are obvious, with no strings attached, and that stay away from any morally righteous obligations. We do jobs for US, and some selfish pricks.”

“ _Rich_ selfish pricks…”

Chloe rolls her eyes. Like she was too concerned with their clientele’s good standing character. Aubrey was missing the point. They got _tricked._ Swindled. Bamboozled _. Again._ She feels a sudden vacuum of stress in her chest boil and freeze her heart when she allows herself to think about what she’s really implying, and now she had to actually articulate her anxiety. Stupid, _stupid_ , pangs of emotion. God, Chloe swears she’s trying to control herself better.

“Last time we got tricked-” Chloe has to calm herself slightly.  Her voice is quiet.  It’s an effort to speak about what comes next without her voice cracking a little, even now.

Aubrey watches on calmly as the ginger wrings her troubled hands. Then watches her nervously cough and straighten up. She knows when she’s apparently ready to address her again, because Chloe’s brushed off any display that she might previously have felt any deep disturbing emotion whatsoever. It’s still the most emotionally honest she’s been with her in about a month. Aubrey lets this observation slide. Inquiring about it would only drive the ginger further into herself.

“Last time we got fooled.” Chloe states, still not quite able to look her in the eye, despite her attempt at blasé. “You got shot in the spine.”

Aubrey _knew_ that’s what Chloe was worried about.

_“I’m well aware.”_

She tries to keep her response to Chloe neutral; but can tell it comes out slightly colder than she wants when the ginger flinches slightly at her tone.  So, it was still affecting her too.

“Well, what do we do then?”

“Nothing. You don’t do anything until we speak to him. You’ve done enough in getting her here like we planned.” Aubrey sighs. “Despite my yelling _-_ you did good Chlo.”

She doesn’t feel like she’s done any good at all. She feels like she’s put them all in an unnecessary amount of danger. Rebecca ’effing Mitchell was going to be a spear in the side of them all it would seem. She should have left her in the trunk of that off-roader. Dammit, her mind had fried trying to make sense of any of this.

“I need some air.”

“Sure. And hey, maybe buy an Otter case for your iPhone if you’re not going to at least insure it.”

Okay that one hurt Chloe’s feelings a little bit. But it was still pretty funny, so she gives a weak smile at her boss and partner none-the-less. Sighing, Chloe throws open the door of Aubrey’s office and storms into the lounge. The damn fire safety hinge doesn’t even allow for a dramatic exit. Fuck that.

 ----

Beca watches from the armchair as Chloe re-enters the common room. Goal-oriented, the ginger heads directly for the kitchen and pulls out a beer. It’s 4:30pm, which seems a tad early, so clearly the meeting with Commander Posen hadn’t gone all that well. Chloe doesn’t acknowledge Beca at all, in fact, she goes straight over to where Emily and CR are playing foos-ball and takes over from Cynthia, with not much gestured but a nod. Beca would think her deliberate ignorance was rude but, Chloe didn’t seem to have a much of a charming side. Her eyebrows raise moments later when she notices the woman laugh at a comment the younger Bella has made. So not even Chloe was immune to Emily’s sunshine. Her head moves back to Posen’s office where the Bella leader is leaning resigned in her wheelchair, blocking the entire office doorway.

“Ms. Mitchell. A word if you’d be so kind?”

It’s slightly alarming to hear her name said so formally. Beca gets up and finds herself dragging her feet across the floor. Almost like she’s back in high school and this is some form of detention. Post the talk, her and the Bella’s had spoken for a pleasant while before they’d wanted to play team foos-ball. And Beca being _her_ , was too awkward for that, so had retired to the comfy red velvet armchair in the corner with the most recent copy of Natgeo. It had been the most pleasant change in pace. She squeezes past Aubrey and begrudgingly enters her office (describe office) with two chairs and a desk. She chooses the chair on the right. Aubrey smoothly wheels back into the room and takes point behind her cool glass desk. She also doesn’t acknowledge Beca at first, choosing to re-organise the placement of some pencils on her desktop. Was this a power move thing? The blonde seemed like a dickish enough person to pull power moves. Maybe that was just her being judgemental though. Aubrey clears her throat. Beca braces herself for what is to come. She’d only been waiting for a proper explanation for all of this for over a _DAY_ now.

Aubrey locks her fingers on the desk.

“Beca, do you know why you’re here?”

The question stuns her a little bit. Particularly since the ginger ninja had deliberately withheld most that information from her; Beca had assumed this was on Commander Posen’s orders.

“I- Chloe, kidnapped me.”

Commander Posen silences her immediately with one upheld hand. Beca feels her forehead furrow. She was definitely feeling that high-school principle vibe.

“I meant do you know the _deeper_ reason for your being here.”

“What deeper reason? I mean, there was some bullshit about you guys ransoming me to my dad to obtain some important research of his; which, I mean- honestly? I don’t understand at all. I can personally testify, that my dad has never done any groundbreakingly important research in his life.”

Not that she wanted to undermine him. Beca wasn’t the fondest person of Dr. Benedict Mitchell, but that wasn’t the reason for her painting a negative portrait of the man at all. See, growing up with him, Ben had often ranted on excited spiels about his research. So, Beca was always kept up to date on what he was doing. He never left her out of the loop, whether Beca wanted it that way or not, and made sure she had a thorough understanding of pre-university level chemistry and biology. Now Beca was in adulthood, in their text chains his spiels continued to live on. His work was always interesting, granted, but it was never exactly… world-changing. Honestly? She could never grasp why he was so smitten with _molecules_ of all things. Beca was more in love with what she could visibly see or hear outside a lab, she was in love with what made everyday life so vibrant, and music for her, was the most beautiful of all these things. Tragically, her dad’s attitude to music, was vice versa hers on chemistry. Beca feels her jaw clench. There was a painful irony in that. But for these reasons, Beca supposed, she was destined to never be the tightest with her dad. That, and the man had always seemed to value his work over her and her mom. Though that elephant-in-the-room, remained unaddressed once her mom died. Beca now felt she would never achieve that close relationship with her dad that she once wanted.

“And that’s what you think? That you’re a kidnap victim, that’s all you know?”

Aubrey snaps her out of her spiral of self-pity. Wait, what? Beca blinks in surprise and speaks her next works warily.

“Yes… I am. And you should know, one of _your_ goons kidnapped me.”

“I mean I wouldn’t call Chloe a goon.”

Aubrey mumbles sheepishly. Beca cuts her off.

“What’s going on? Why have you been nothing but nice to me since I got here? Has there been some sort of mistake in taking me? Am I free to go?”

She dares to say it, and Aubrey sighs at her like she wishes that were true. Beca naively still sort of hopes it is. Aubrey raps her fingers on the cool glass of the desk, before plucking an expensive looking roller-ball from her pencil pot. Beca watches as she twiddles it thoughtfully between her fingertips. Her nails are perfectly manicured.

“There’s… been a development in your case.”

Aubrey continues. _HER_ case? Gee, what a wonderful thing to call Beca’s kidnapping. Lovely, make it sound like this project was something Beca had elected to take part in. Also, referring to her debacle as a ‘case’ massively mis-valued the Bella’s impact on her trauma. It made them sound like the guys who were attempting to solve her personal tragedy, when in fact they were the assholes who caused the damn issue to begin with. If this place even had a HR department, Beca would be filing a complaint right about now. Beca silently sighs to herself but says nothing. Instead tiredly electing for Aubrey to come forward with a full explanation. The roller-ball clacks onto the desk, dumped without much of a second thought. Aubrey sighs.

“Rebecca, you’re not exactly our kidnappee anymore.”

 _Beca_ , her name was Beca, and secondly, _victim_ would have been a far more apt thing to have called her, but Commander Posen could go on. This was objectively great news, don’t get her wrong, but Beca’s inner cynic wasn’t allowing her to leap for joy just yet.  She lets Aubrey continue.

“-Rather, you’re something else.”

There was that catch that she was expecting.

“The man who hired us to acquire your father and then you, was perhaps unsurprisingly, originally anonymous to us. But yesterday he finally chose reveal his identity when Chloe and yourself went dark; and along with that event, came necessary _amendments_ to our novel scheme.”

She stops there.

“ _And?_ ”

Beca urges. It’s almost as if the blonde is bracing herself for something. Like she can’t believe what she has to say.

Indeed, with her next words, Aubrey does feel like a part of her soul leaves her body and ascends to the astral plain.

“Miss Mitchell, per our client’s most recent wishes, it is with great reluctance I place you under the bodily protection of Miss Beale. You are to remain within our full care for the next 24-hour period and from then on, for however many minutes it may be until our client’s arrival. We fully expect you to comply with all of Chloe’s recommendations for you. Needless to say-”

“Wait, _WHAT?”_

“ _Needless to say_ , any attempt for you to leave us, would endanger yourself, and we highly advise against it. Though now that you’re our client by extension, we can’t stop you.”

What the fuck? Why and how was she now suddenly a client? Who the fuck was this reigning puppet-master Aubrey was talking about? Beca had no idea who the hell would want to keep her from being kidnapped after freaking kidnapping her to begin with, that screamed bat shit crazy to her; which wasn’t at all encouraging. She assumed the threat of her being kidnapped by others was in relation to DSM, or were there even more hit-men out there after her? There couldn’t possibly be more factions involved in all this. And she was still left thinking about her father’s disappearance. How did he fit into all this? What and who had he moronically gotten himself involved with? Her head was spinning again. So suddenly she wasn’t a misunderstood victim? Just as she was beginning to comprehend that was all she was.

This was madness. It was as if this whole thing were a game of novice chess. Beca herself playing the role of a captured pawn, that had, for some reason been placed inexplicably back on the board; at some point having been repainted in the other team’s colours. Okay so maybe chess wasn’t the best analogy to use. Actually, did Chloe know about this arrangement? More importantly, had she actually agreed to any of it? Is that why she had left the room in such a bad mood earlier? Looking after Beca these last few days couldn’t have amounted to _that_ large a burden. Sure, their whole adventure had been wild from start to finish, but none of it was explicitly the fault of the wanna-DJ. Whatever, she didn’t need the ginger to like her when she was leaving right now anyway. Because if she had to spend another 24 hours with that homicidal maniac despite how cool all her friends seemed to be, Beca would no doubt go insane herself. She could just get up and walk right on out of here, right? Aubrey had just announced that she was a ‘client’ herself now, so that was surely in the realm of possibility for her.

She gets up without much of a second thought, and fully plans on making a bee-line for the exit when Aubrey calls out after her. Beca’s hand freezes on the fully turned door knob.

“Not even thirty seconds and you’re already making the big mistake.” Aubrey says calmly. That was a Bella business record.

“I am leaving _right now_ , unless you clarify all of what you just said to me, and you tell me who the fuck kidnapped me and wants to kidnap my father.”

Sometimes you just have to be childish and issue a non-negotiable ultimatum to your kidnappers-slash-bodyguards.

“Beca…”

Oh so now she calls her by her preferred name!

“Don’t tell me I don’t deserve to know everything after the level of shit that I’ve just been through.”

Her voiced sounds strained. Aubrey sighs. She actually does feel for the younger girl quite heavily. From Chloe’s breakdown of everything that had happened to them since that first hotel incident (Aubrey couldn’t believe that wasn’t the height of all the violence they’d experienced in the last couple of days). The small girl had seen way too much for an unseasoned citizen. She hoped the psychological scarring wasn’t bad enough to encourage Beca to sue. Well, actually, filling her in would probably null the chances of that happening anyhow. Aubrey makes a calculated decision, and emptily smiles.

“I think it’s just better if we just call him again. If you would turn to the screen behind you a moment.”

Beca’s pretty surprised that the blond gives in so quickly but she doesn’t pry. That was an easier barter than she thought. She swivels in her seat to notice the black flat screen on the wall behind her. That was mildly intimidating but okay. She’s patient as she listens to the soothing melody of Skype and is only mildly anxious to uncover the identity of her abductor. That's what she keeps murmuring to herself anyway, she isn't terrified, not at all. The caller answers within two rings. Beca feels her jaw drop in shock when she sees their pixelated face. She sputters out the next words and her voice isn’t as strong as she would like when she manages to say:

“Dad?”

Ben looks like he hasn’t slept in days. His face is unshaven, his hair is tussled and his golden blue eyes are baggy and dark. He looks like he did straight after Beca’s mum died, just with an increased volume of grey hair. The thought triggers some terrified inner child and her stomach drops in foreboding.

“Hi honey.”

She wants to yell at him, scream even, and rather embarrassingly there’s even the mild compulsion to cry a little mixed in there. How could he even dream of pulling a stunt like this? Who the hell did he think he was? Some sort of character in a British spy movie? But Beca steels herself and rejects all her overwhelming desires; for one, because they have company, and two because his appearance unnerves her. He genuinely looks unwell.

_“Dad?”_

She numbly repeats. He gives a tired sigh. It seems Ben isn’t in the right state of mind for any conflict, even if that’s where Beca wants to take things. Any fight they got into like this, Beca knew, would just worsen their relationship and she might not ever find out what his fucked-up brain was thinking when he started this.

“So, I can imagine you’re pretty confused right about now.”

“No, dad. I’m actually fucking _furious_ , mainly.”

She bites back. Though admittedly, the confusion she was feeling was pretty overwhelming too.

“Oh.”

He’s awkwardly quiet for a moment, his usual incompetent self when it came to communicating with her. She feels a stab of inadequacy in her chest at her failure to at first actually try to be kind toward him; but Ben made it so frustratingly difficult, every time. Fuck why did she still have an urge left to please him? And why did it feel like the world and his wife judged her so harshly every time she successfully shrugged that emotion off? As far as Beca was concerned, this particular evolutionary behaviour could go fuck itself.

“Listen Beca, I’m so _so_ sorry. I fully meant to be there for dinner, and I promise to apologise properly to you tomorrow when I get to Georgia, but I’m running out of time tonight.”

“What the hell have you done? They’re telling me you have some sort of… important research, that’s worth fake kidnapping me for?”

He sighs.

“I meant for them to fake kidnap _me_ only.”

“Oh, like that’s somehow better?”

Beca head was reeling for the stupidity of the sentence that had just came from her usually hyper-logical father’s brain.

“Look, I decided to kidnap _you_ in the end, in order to protect you.”

He’s getting slightly exacerbated. As if any of this, should make complete logical sense to Beca immediately, and not to mention without context. _TO PROTECT HER?_

“I didn’t need your protection!” She spits back.

“Really? Then what’s all this about DSM?”

Now they’re both needlessly wound up. She’s genuinely speechless at this point. This is what always happened. The fought over nothing. She laughs back.

“I mean, are you kidding me? That was _YOUR_ fault. I don’t even know who those guys are, yet alone how they’re fucking involved here!”

“I DON’T EXPECT YOU TO KNOW!” He yells abruptly.

She flinches at the sudden aggression. Ben Mitchell wipes his hand over his receding hair line, and then all over his face. So, he wasn’t just tired, but seriously stressed too. Something was majorly bothering him. Maybe the Bella’s had actually been correct about this important research of his.

“You don’t need to know, I never meant for you to be involved. Sorry, I- Beca please. Just stay with Chloe for the evening. I promise I’ll explain everything to you tomorrow.”

“No.” Beca answers, voice shaking. “You tell me everything now, or I walk.”

On screen, Beca watches her father nervously glance away from the screen. He looks paranoid as hell with all the head darting she can see going on. She misses his next snippet of speech when the screen freezes a moment. The top half of his skull temporarily becomes disconnected from his lower jaw and neck, and the TV gives an unpleasantly long buzz. A couple of seconds later, the connection is fully functional again.

“Very well. I suppose I at least owe you a brief synopsis.”

Ben’s eyes shine with a sudden something.

“You need to know Becs, that I’ve been working on something important. A collaboration with a couple of other biochemists, with funding from a private investor. …And it’s also been happening without the university knowing per say.”

Well even Beca can guess that’s not likely to be allowed.

“Dad, why would you risk doing something like that?”

Her dad sighs.

“I know you’re judging me Beca, but the money was just too good to pass up. It could pay off my mortgage on the house, your frankly _ridiculous_ debt to NYU.” He smiles fondly. “You could maybe even finally buy and learn to ride that motorcycle you always talked to me about.”

She’s actually pretty impressed with him for remembering that. But his decision was still stupid.

“But why not approach the university for funding?”

“Scholarships are so hotly contested Becs, there’s no guarantee I would’ve ever received funding.” He shakes his head. “Academia is a tough business.”

Aubrey nods her head off to the side like she gets it. Red tape. Her dad continues on.

“Plus, this is- way more funding that I would have gotten otherwise. This guy’s bank account is bottomless, almost.”

He looks so hopeful, but that was another major personality clash between the two. Her father was forever the optimistic dreamer, and her, the realist. She’s already thinking about the shadiness of this investor. No one did anything for free, ever. Especially when large sums of cash were involved.

“Dad… what did you do?”

The smile on his face drops when Beca brings them back down to reality.

“Admittedly I may have made a minor mistake in trusting our donor at face value. But Beca, you have to understand, we did something really important. This work we’ve created, well it could change the world as we know it.”

“Tell me you didn’t make a weapon.”

His eyes widen in shock at her accusation.

“Beca- you know I would never do anything like that. I- no, on the contrary. We created a new type of vaccination.”

“Against what?”

He grins at her from ear to ear.

“I promise I’ll tell you all about it when we meet in person. Anyway, back to the investor.” Ben sighs. “He double crossed us, and now he wants us to sell our findings to the highest bidder. To _patent_ our vaccine.” He shakes his head in horror. “I should have known. I mean I did vaguely know. Which is why I sent the only copy of the research we had away to some place safe.”

Beca’s mind is swimming. A vaccine? Had her dad had actually developed something useful, and why was he was holding back all the important details?

 “You were meant to stay in the dark about all of it, but things got out of control. He started to threaten me, my friends, our families, _you_. Which was why I called for our dinner together at that hotel. I was going to tell you everything before I disappeared via the kidnapping thing. Obviously, that didn’t go according to plan.”

Really? Beca had no idea.

Ben continues.

“I planned my self-kidnap pinned on the hope that his focus would shift onto his potential rivals that may have taken me instead, and hopefully he’d forget about you and everyone else he was threatening all together. Plus, if you were genuinely surprised by my disappearance and looked as if you had no idea why I was gone, then the chances he would have bothered coming for you fell again.”

His choice of location suddenly made a lot more sense to her. If you thought you were being followed, why bother picking somewhere fancy? Who could have possibly guessed their meeting would be occurring at a seedy roadside motel. The US had thousands of potential ones to choose from. The possibilities certainly made it difficult for anyone looking for Ben to find him.

Ben sighs.

“What I didn’t bet on, was the marking and grading I had to do getting in the way of my travel plans to meet you.”

What.

“Are you saying, you missed our meeting, because you had to give a couple of undergraduates their meaningless grades?”

“Well, their very meaningful to them I’m sure, plus I’ve got to stay on track.” He looks over at Aubrey of all people and beams. “I’m up for tenure.”

“Congratulations.” Aubrey dead pans.

“Actually, in truth pumpkin, I was also going to ask you to do something for me before I got myself kidnapped.” Ben cringes.

So, he’d arranged their meeting at the hotel to also ask a favour from her? Beca   nods her head, now understanding everything a bit more clearly. It was never just about catching up with her dad, and it was naïve of her to assume that this time it actually would be. Beca was an idiot, and Ben Mitchell was father of the fucking year.

“I know that’s probably not what you wanted to hear. But Beca, I still need your help. _Please_ honey.”

Beca actively resists the temptation to grind her teeth together in frustration, knowing her father isn’t worth the future dental expense. So instead, she creases her lips in irritation, and tries to figure out how the hell to respond. Obviously her first thought is _HELL NO!_ And she truly, desperately wants to follow through on that decision. But Ben was also family, and her mom had told her that no matter what, she needed to be there for him. It was a tough ask, but she’d made Beca promise her that before she died. There’s a brief feeling of pain that seeps slowly into her heart with the memory. Beca missed her mother so much. Why did _he_ have to be the only blood relation she had left on this god damn planet? Fate clearly wasn’t a fan of her. She already hates herself for saying what she does next.  But Beca makes a point to remind herself that she doesn’t need to follow through with whatever Ben’s demands will be; and alternatively, she can just meditate on his proposal indefinitely to annoy the hell out of him. That would certainly be the more entertaining option. Beca exhales. She can’t believe she’s doing this.

“Okay. What do you need?”

He releases a relieved sigh. Damn this really was important, huh? Through the computer screen he looks the girl’s dead in the eye, and she catches a glimpse of how desperate the man is really feeling. He looks… vulnerable.

“Thank you. I know I don’t exactly deserve your help after what I’ve put you through, so thanks.”

“No problem.” Aubrey answers, and Beca gives her the most irritated side eye she can muster. Did the blonde mind? This was sort of a private moment. Her dad continues.

“I need you and the Bella’s to retrieve my research. I would do it myself, but I’m pretty certain I’m being followed, and alone I-” Ben shakes his head. “Well, I don’t stand a chance without back up. I’m just a useless middle aged academic, I’m no warrior. They’ll find it and me, within hours.”

He gives a depreciative laugh. And Beca was just a music producer in training! What the hell did she know about facing up against a bunch of murderers and kidnappers? Aside from what she’d managed to learn these last few days. That didn’t count. What did he need to put her in danger for? Surely the Bella’s could manage this venture alone?

“You need to get to my data before they do Beca, _please_.”

She couldn’t believe her big assignment was for her to become a glorified courier, with the death squad here acting as her personal caravan. Excellent. Again, why make her a part of this at all?

“Just who exactly is the _they_ , dad?”

She queries. Was it only DSM that were after them? Was the investor the same man who hired the German group? And they’d already come after Beca, so wasn’t she already being followed as well? Hence why he’d assigned her a damn body guard in the first place. This whole plan seemed highly contradictory.

Ben pauses a moment.

 “Do you remember Patricia?”

Beca internally scoffs. Did she remember her best, and well if she’s honest her only childhood friend from middle school? …Okay she was her only friend in high-school too. At least Beca wasn’t a nerd. Anyway, her dad’s question was like asking the Irish if they remembered the potato blight.

“Yes dad, I remember Fat Amy, how could I not?”

Her cheeks flare red. Amy was impossible to forget, drama either found her, or she was the one causing it. Either way, the Australian always found herself caught right in the middle of of it all. It kind of made the blonde and by default therefore Beca, infamous among the faculty and student body. It was impossible to try to count all the iconic moments she had spent with Amy. There was the incident with the fire alarm, the time with the baby alligator, the tar and feathering gone wrong, (that one still made her cringe)-

“Did you just say Fat Amy?” Aubrey interrupts.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, she gave the nickname to herself.”

Beca mumbles, responding to her almost reflexively. Aubrey wasn’t the first person to ask about her friend’s questionable name choice, or the first to assume it was the cruel product of ruthless childhood bullying etc. But back to the original subject, it suddenly clicks in Beca’s mind what her dad had been implying. Oh no. He didn’t. He couldn’t have.

“Hold on a second. Dad. Are you saying that you gave your research to _Amy?_ ”

“Wait you _know_ Fat Amy?” Aubrey interrupts.

 _“_ Wait. Do _ you_ know Fat Amy?” Ben sputters before Beca has even made the connection. Beca highly doubted there could be more than one in the state of Georgia though.

“I- well no, I don’t know her personally.”

Oh. The Mitchell’s promptly dismiss the Bella commander and get back to addressing each other.

“Dad, if you’ve given your information to Amy, then we’re in serious trouble.”

“I’ll say.”

Aubrey murmers. Suddenly finding herself hauled back into the Mitchell’s conversation.

“What do you mean?”

Beca turns back to blink at her innocently. Aubrey’s eyebrows raise in genuine surprise. The small DJ seems genuinely confused by her commentary. Aubrey says her next words slowly in case she’s missed something. But Aubrey doesn’t miss details.

“…Fat Amy heads a street gang.” She says.

Say what now? No, that couldn’t be correct, Beca must have misheard her. It would seem the exhaustion she was feeling was finally taking its tool on her senses.

“I assumed that’s what you were so concerned about.” Aubrey continues.

“Sorry I thought you just said Fat Amy heads a street gang.”

Beca scoffs back. Aubrey looks at her weirdly.

“…She does. The trebles own just about the entire east side of Barden.”

Okay Beca HAD to be dreaming right now. Maybe she’d passed out in the red velvet chair earlier reading that article on male sea-horses and childcare.

“You sure we’re talking about the same Amy? Blonde, Australian, fat, also the founder of the big mermaid dancing trend?”

Aubrey rolls her eyes, of course she was certain. Particularly with a description that vivid.

“How many people called Fat Amy do you know?”

She’s serious. The Bella leader is actually serious about this. Beca can’t believe it. How the fuck did the bombshell blonde go from free-spirited adventurer, to notorious gang banger? The later seemed like an occupation _with genuine responsibilities_ and Amy couldn’t handle responsibilities! Once, in middle school, Amy was left in charge of feeding the class hamster for the weekend. She came back on Monday with a hamster that was white, which was odd, because Beca distinctly remembered the class hamster being _brown_. Naturally after that escapade, Mrs. Peterson kept the care of Hercules II to herself. Rest in peace, Hercules the first.

“A _gang leader_ , blimey! In my defence, I had no idea she was even capable of holding down a job.” Ben chuckles casually, he actually almost sounds proud of her.

Aubrey loudly sighs.

“This really complicates things.”

Tell Beca about it.

Amy. _REALLY_? After all these years? After all this time? Was there truly no one else, between the both of them for that matter, that her father trusted enough to keep a hold of such vital information. It was sad enough that it was one of Beca’s friends that he’d selected, but sadder still that it was one that Beca knew _years_ ago. How… disconnected and clueless about each other’s lives had they become?

“Well. Let’s not approach this with such a negative lens! Look at the positives! Beca knows Amy, they were best friends for years. And look, there’s no hard grudges that they drifted, that just happens in life sometimes.”

God, he was really telling this complete stranger her entire life story. Beca can feel her face burning with embarrassment.

“Plus, now that she’s the head of a gang, my data is sure to be in safe hands. No one would dare steal from her, it’s perfect.”

It was far from perfect.

“Perfect, provided we manage to get by her security detail.”

Aubrey murmers somewhere in the background.

“I have complete faith in you Miss Posen. After all, you safely delivered my daughter here without a single scratch.”

 **_Oh, he had_ ** _** NO ** _ **_idea what Beca had been through._ **

Ben sighs.

“There is one more catch though.”

**_Of course, there was._ **

“Patricia doesn’t exactly know, what she’s harbouring.”

_“What?”_

Beca gasps in surprise. Ben takes a moment to guiltily scratch his head.

“So, you remember that sheep plushie I got you for your ninth birthday?”

Kill her. Just kill Beca right now. _Right in front of the deadly mercenary._ Just expose her every embarrassing childhood memory.

“Yeah dad, I remember Shaun.” Beca mumbles.

Beca had been interested in the toy for all of six months before she had discarded it to the depths of her toy chest. It was a gift her dad had bought back when he was doing a guest lecture in England. When Amy had discovered it however, aged twelve, her interest in the sheep had been revitalized. The Australian declared it the best toy Beca owned and demanded it have pride of place on her bed, so when Amy came around she could give it an affectionate cuddle. Even when they turned sixteen, Amy still hugged that damn sheep every time she came over. Nothing could ever embarrass Patricia Hobart. She was immune to adolescent trends. Probably because she made most of them.

Ben continues.

"Well, I may have stuffed a USB with all my data on it, into his head, and then stitched him back up."

Oh. Beca was wondering how the sheep was at all connected to this; she wished she hadn't asked though, because that genuinely sounded horrifying.

"-And then I gave Shaun to Amy as a present."

Beca blinks. Trying to follow, and yeah okay, maybe understand her dad's rationale a little bit more clearly.

"But why would Amy accept a present from you after all this time?"

Over the TV screen, he shrugs back at her.

"We still occasionally meet for coffee. We do live in the same city Becs."

"I'm-" Beca's many things right about now. _All of that_ was new information to her. " _Appalled_."

She finishes. Mainly what had shocked he most out of this conversation was the image of her decapitated sheep.

Ben sighs.

"Noted."

But Beca was also sort of impressed, there was no way Amy would lose that sheep, she loved that sheep! An undisguised USB however, that wouldn't last two minutes under Hobart supervision. There’s a comfortable moment of silence between them as the two figure out the next things they want to ask. It’s odd, but Beca kinds of likes it. Unfortunately, it only lasts about twenty seconds, before suddenly through the speakers there’s a loud bang, and her dad’s face snaps up to look at wherever it had come from.

“Dad?” Beca asks hesitantly.

He doesn’t reply, instead he gestures for her to be quiet.

There’s another bang. It sounds like someone ramming themselves against a wooden door. Beca’s eyes squint to get a better look of where he dad actually is. There’s a set of shutter blinds in the background, closed and set against night sea painted brick. He himself is squatted on a dusty looking sofa. It looks like he’s in some sort of office building.

“Dad what’s going on?”

She thought he said he was safe. His attention moves back to the screen. She can see in his eyes that he’s extremely frightened, though he’s trying not to show it.

“I think they’ve found me Beca.”

“Well where are you? We can come and get you!”

He shakes his head.

“There’s no time.”

There’s an even louder slam, and the sound of muffled yelling. Beca feels her heart plummet through her chest.

“Wait, who’s there? Dad who’s the investor? You haven’t told me who the investor is yet!”

He looks at her pained, and she knows he was meaning to, but there’s still time- _there’s still time._

“Beca I’ll hold out on them for as long as I can but you _have_ to get to Shaun.”

His hand is on the corner of the screen and she can see that he’s about to shut his laptop on them.

“Wait dad-”

_"Find the sheep!"_

He finishes, and then there’s the sound of shattering wood as whoever it is finally blows the hinges to the office. Beca screams as the glass window behind her father simultaneously also shatters. It’s chaos. She watches Ben shield his face as the shards rip at the back of his head and hit his computer screen. It’s as if they’ve entered a slow-motion moment. From the left corner of the camera, a man in a ski mask and full black body armour appears, and Before Beca can warn Ben, tell him to look up again, something obstructs her view and then her dad’s laptop crashes to the floor, leaving her with only the view of a white ceiling and muffled sound for guidance.

“DAD!” Beca screams, leaping from her chair.

She hears him cry out what she thinks is her name and then there’s the sound of more smashing glass. There’s sounds of angry voices and stomping boots and scrapping wood and tearing fabric and god knows what else it all happens so damn _quickly_. There are so many of them, she can’t see them but she can tell, that he doesn’t stand a chance at all.

“Hold him still!”

She hears a male’s voice she doesn’t recognise say. But she can guess exactly what they plan on doing to him. Her neck was still sore from where Chloe had rammed that needle into her neck.

Oh no. Oh no, Oh no, Oh no.

“Take him to the car.”

_“NO!”_

She calls out furiously. If they touched a single hair on his head, Beca was going to kill them, _all of them_ , where they stood. “Leave him alone! He hasn’t done anything wrong, leave him alone!”

Upside down a man (or woman) suddenly appears on Aubrey’s television screen and looms over them. They're also wearing a ski mask, the same body armour. The only uniquely identifiable thing about them is their pair of piercingly cold blue eyes. Beca’s just getting over how intimidatingly big they look from this angle when their boot appears over the top of the camera. No.

“No, don’t! -”

The screen crackles once before the Skype call ends, and their feed switches to black.

 _What…_ Beca feels her knees buckle beneath her as she sinks back into the chair she was in moments ago. _What just…_ She doesn’t even have the energy left to finish her thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people, HAPPY SUMMER! I know a couple of you have been waiting very patiently for this, and I hope it's everything you wanted explained written clearly and well. Haha, it's about time! Can't give you all the exposition though can I? ;) As usual feel free to like, comment and Kudos, I appreciate your every interaction with me! You're all lovely, and it's such a great way to keep fic writers motivated! You can also find me on Tumblr under hopepunking if you fancy leaving a message :) 
> 
> P.S. So for a native Englishwoman my language can be somewhat appalling, at least this is what I've found when reviewing my chapters for this and CtW, hence why next move is to go back and re-edit each chapter of EVERYTHING so it makes... sense. Also in the works is a short SuperCorp fic I want written, so that may delay the next chapter on this for a while? Apologies for the inconvenience, but i need a creative break from this LMAO. 
> 
> Peace out, and hope this summer is the best for you, wherever and whomever you may be!
> 
> Britishgal  
> oxoxoxo


	8. An Unexpected Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What a fucking mess.

#  An Unexpected Audience 

##  (With The-Blob-In-The-Night)

### Chapter 8

Chloe’s staring. She knows she isn’t being particularly subtle about it, but given the particular scenario this time around, she doesn’t really need to be. Beca’s understandably too out of it to be fully aware of anything or anyone right now, and the other Bella’s are in too heated an argument about what to do with her to pay Chloe any mind. It’s a tad pathetic, everyone’s strong reaction to the kidnapping of a man they barely knew.

Even Beca seems too distressed by the news almost. She wasn’t acting as devastated as a “daddies’ girl”, but neither was she acting apathetically enough to suggest that her father and herself were as distanced as she claimed. Interesting, considering the negative vibes she had sent Chloe’s way about the state of their current relationship.  Beca cared, but not excessively. Perhaps then, she had been telling Chloe the truth from the start, and the two _were_ estranged, but perhaps this estrangement ran shallower that the DJ herself imagined. Maybe it was even reversable? _Kidnappings did bring people closer together…_ morbid as that was.

Chloe just expected a little more emotional restraint from everyone if she’s honest. Frankly the Bella’s inability in this instance to separate their emotions from their current case was highly unprofessional (and unusual). But if Chloe tried to intervene and mention this however, there would inevitably be cat-fight of some sort, and really, Chloe didn’t have the time or energy enough to care. But Back to Beca, the object of her attention. The brunette had tucked herself quietly away in the corner of the lounge and had curled up in the foetal position on the red arm chair. She’d looked comically tiny in the thing before she’d been summoned into Aubrey’s office, but now she seemed the size of an eight-year-old child. She looks miserable. _Yes, this broken relationship could definitely be fixed_. The thought crosses her mind, that if Beca had actually had access to make-up these last few days she’d been stuck with Chloe, then she would have appeared in a much worse state. Which all things considered is probably a good thing, because the small DJ looks for lack of a better word, terrible. Chloe isn’t too sure why the make-up thought matters. She glances down at the beer bottle in her hand and thoughtfully swirls its remaining contents. _Down the hatch_. She finishes the last two mouthfuls in one go.

Beca doesn’t notice the ginger until the older woman’s hand has appeared by her head and is playfully rapping on her armchair’s velvet backboard.

“I bet you’re thrilled by all this.”

Beca begins sarcastically. Chloe’s hand pauses its rhythmic beating, and the tips of her fingers delicately move to caress the brass nails of the chair’s upholstery.

“By what?”

Chloe answers. It’s an innocently asked question, there were a lot of things going on after all. The ginger sluggishly moves to lounge behind Beca and drapes herself over the back of the armchair like some sort of oversized cat; ready to take in the other girl’s answer. She makes half-assed attempt to bat the DJ’s pony-tail. Beca squeams a little bit at that, but Chloe shrugs her off. It was funny seeing Beca with her hair up. Chloe gets lost in herself for a little bit. …If the brunette thought, that the ginger thought, that kidnappings were all fun and games, then she’d seriously misunderstood the content of Chloe’s character. Not that Chloe had been entirely forthcoming about herself, but besides that, Beca still hasn’t answered her question. She analyses her charge: Beca’s giving her an incredibly bitter but expecting look. Luckily Chloe was getting pretty good at deciphering the DJ’s annoyed silences.

“Oh, is this about the body-guard thing?”

Chloe raises a brow. Beca’s face doesn’t alter. Chloe’s lips crease. That was either a yes or a no, so Chloe was going to keep going on with her point regardless.

“-because it doesn’t demand anything from me that I haven’t been doing for you these last few days anyhow. Only thing that’s really changed is my official title.”

“From what, _kidnapper_?”

Beca snaps back. Touchy. At least Chloe knew she’d hit the right mark then.

“Field-agent… I was going to say, but body-guard seems… somehow kinder than both our labels doesn’t it?” Chloe smiles to herself. “It would seem Aubrey’s gone ahead and _liberalized_ our organisation.”

Beca shakes her head at her in mild disparagement.

“What do you want from me, Beale?”

“To check in on you.”

She hands Beca an opened bottle of beer. Chloe shrugs.

“Another thing about this minor role change, is that I should probably grant you some leeway in terms of respect.”

“Oh, that’s right, I’m your client now.”

As opposed to whatever Beca had been before, which was victim blatantly, but she had no idea what the Bella’s had referred to her as. Their prize, their package? Who knew. She takes the beer from Chloe’s hand without really thinking, then frowns.

“This is empty?”

“Yeah. I just wanted someone to hold it for me… So, thanks.”

She claps Beca on the shoulder before she begins to move away.

**_That motherfucker._ **

Beca thinks, as Chloe begins to strut back toward the larger conversation. She had every right to throw this at her head. Her finger’s tighten around the bottle-neck. _Maybe she would-_

Suddenly there’s an interruption from the bigger group.

“Chloe, you’ve been rather quiet over there. Any suggestions?” Aubrey asks.

Beca finds herself lightly smiling. With all that was going on between Chloe and herself, there was no way the ginger could have kept up with the Bella’s trail of conversation. _What to do with her_ , now wasn’t that an interesting question. Chloe opens up her mouth to speak and then pauses- Beca knew it, she wasn’t listening! She was so ready for round two of Chloe Beale getting publicly ass-whooped by her boss.

…But today was not going to be the day that happened.

“Well, first of all, I agree with Flo. Beca really shouldn’t be the one to make any decisions about how this evening goes.”

“Hey!”

Beca isn’t so sure if she’s offended by the fact that she hadn’t heard Flo’s comment, or by the fact Chloe had somehow been listening in after all. Both are quite wounding. (She also felt denied a drag.)

Chloe looks around the room at them all and spots her team’s disparaged faces. Some quiet recess in her chest aches a little in response.  Aubrey at least, seemed to be holding it together. Of course, she was going to shoot Chloe’s idea down immediately, this was certain. But Chloe’s idea would have instant support from Stace, and if she played her cards right also from CR. The Legacy was a no-go, but Chloe could doctor an ID for her by tonight… with a little help from Lilly of course. Emily Junk was easily tall enough to pass of as 21 anyhow, but you never knew when you’d need some official documentation. She looks behind her once more at Beca, wishing she was standing behind that armchair still, because that would have made for an excellent podium. That idea could always be saved for the next time though, rousing speeches were common after all in the Bella establishment. With that thought she turns to face her temporary political opponent. Aubrey looks as unwavering as Hilary in her defeat. Chloe smiles, her opening statement is simple.

_“We need to go to a bar.”_

Instant cheer from Stacie. The party-girl forces her nearby girlfriend to high-five her. Okay, guess that meant she got Flo’s vote too. Strong start, she hadn’t even begun to support herself yet.

Aubrey sighs. As usual being the voice of reason. “And why would we need to go to a bar?”

 _Thank you for taking the bait question_. Chloe internally smiles.

“Well Commander and my-closest-of-friends, let me entertain you with the many benefits of this decision.”

By now she’s captured all the Bella’s attention. Stacie’s grinning at her, and Flo’s quietly smiling at Stacie, though she breaks away a moment to give Chloe a nod of respect (God those two were adorable). CR is understandably looking at her like she’s just lost her damn mind and Emily as usual looked like a frightened little lamb in the face of confrontation. Lilly is… _plotting something_ there’s no other word for it, and thank god Jessica and Ashley aren’t here, because Chloe doesn’t even want to pretend she cares what they think.

“Okay, this is going to sound a little odd, but hear me out, and please direct all questions toward the end of the presentation. Point one, obviously, is that Beca’s dad has been kidnapped, and evidently, she’s not the only one who isn’t coping _well_ with that.”

She gestures to the group as a whole, and a few of them look away in shame.

“So, you’re thinking of going out as a de-stressor?” CR interrupts. _What did she say about leaving questions until the end?_

“ _Yes_.” She answers before Aubrey can intervene, noticing her mouth has already opened to object. “But secondly, we also have a job to do. Beca’s dad has told us what and who we need to find; and girls we’re on a time limit, we _need_ to locate Fat Amy ASAP. We know that her and her crew run the East side of Barden, but we don’t know exactly where we’ll find her. Yes, Stacie tracking her by satellite could work, but guys we’re locals and we know the area!  So, I vote we infiltrate a known Treble bar, and find out for ourselves.”

It went unsaid, but this plan was also a lot safer (and more legal) than Stacie piggy-backing on the property of the NSA. She’d done it before of course and would most likely need to for the Bella’s again, but it was a gamble to her freedom every time. When Chloe broke the law, she faced increased time in a federal jail, but Stacie… if the state found out what Stacie had done, the girl was likely to disappear off the face of the Earth. Not one of the Bella’s wanted that for her. Aubrey’s mouth shuts. It seems she’s cracked the hardest nut.

“But wait-”

The owner of the voice shocks her. It’s the last person she expects it to belong too. _Et tu, Emily?_

“What are you planning on doing with Beca in that time? Aren’t you supposed to be body-guarding her? Surely you’d both be safer here?”

Body-guarding wasn’t a verb, but this bought her onto her last point. Chloe runs a stressed hand through her hair and lets out a deliberately overdramatic sigh.

“These last few days, Beca and I have been chased, shot at, nearly blown up. I’ve personally been knocked out with a vase made of China-”

She gestures for the small DJ to say her own piece or two, and finds the younger girl actually looks semi-perky at the prospect of leaving this place.

“I’ve been drugged, stabbed, the bullet actually hit me, so _shot_.” Beca releases a slightly crazed laugh. “Oh, right and my dad just got kidnapped this morning.”

And the two of them together had survived through _all_ of it. Not that they were invincible by any means, but Chloe was now fairly certain they were able to handle most of what came their way. Mitchell had survived one heck of a field test. She was rather proud, even if they were a very unconventional team, and even if most their team-work was one-sided. …Beca was punching with her as a body-guard.

Aubrey raises a hand to quieten them both.

“All right we see your point.”

Chloe just shrugs to show she’s done and waits for the blonde to say something else. The other Bella’s wait patiently for her to come to a decision. Aubrey rubs her chin in deep thought.

“…Fine. We’ll go.”

Chloe gives a small victory hand clench. Emily actually squeals with excitement. Chloe high-fives CR as she walks past, the woman’s already on her way back to the garage; and Beca actually gets up and out of her chair. _Girl’s night out it was then._ It’s not long before Aubrey herself starts to wheel back to her office, barking orders as she does so.

“Stacie! find me a list of all the bars and clubs located in East Barden. Exclude all those meant for university students and tourists, I want small and local.”

“And think tacky!” Beca adds. All the Bella’s turn to look at her in mild astonishment. As if she doesn’t have the right to give demands as a client now. That thought makes her smile. “What? Amy’s the tackiest person I know.”

Aubrey shrugs.

“ _Themed_ too then. The rest of you, back to work. Need I remind you all, you’re all on duty until seven. And someone get Miss Mitchell some suitable clothes for tonight!”

\----

The Fat Dingo Bitch was an unexpected delight. An Australian themed Bar and Club that Beca is secretly thoroughly impressed by. On the walls of the lower level, there’s bar number one. This is about as tacky as Beca had expected, because it’s decked out entirely in Bamboo (a wildly incorrect choice of decor considering the location theme but okay); Mounted on the right wall are replica _(?)_ Australian road signs and number plates, chequered between what looked like scenic Australian stock photos. And on the back wall, occupying a huge space, there’s a wall poster of somewhere in Tazmania called Seven-mile beach. This location was very close to Amy’s childhood home, if Beca recalls correctly, so, that strongly hints they’re in the right place then. Good find Stacie. Behind the counter, alongside the mahogany racks of booze, are various signed photos from visiting Australian celebrities, such as Kylie Minogue, Chris Hemsworth and Chloe’s personal favourite which is signed by Cate Blanchett.

_The only place I trusted to host my 41stand rightly, I loved every moment! Cate xox_

Apparently, ALL these people, had been to at least some form of this bar? According to an explanatory plaque outside, Dingo Bitch’s was apparently a hit chain in Australia. _Interesting how one of the first in the US had ended up in Barden then._ In the corner booth, there’s an inflatable Kangaroo, wearing red boxing gloves and blue shorts, and beside him a test-your-strength machine. She could hear its thickly accented audio blaring from here. _You call that a punch? THIS is a punch!_ That wasn’t tacky at all. Beca couldn’t believe this was the first choice of establishment for any renowned celebrity, yet alone a two-time Oscar winner. Surely Australia had better clubs in which people could spend their time? Or maybe like the rest of the common swill, Cate Blanchett just liked a good ol’ dive bar. Who could blame her?

“What’s a Budget Colada?” Beca mumbles to the waiter. It was a really… interesting cocktail menu. Beca hadn’t heard of three quarters of the things on the list. The server, clearly a student at the local university, rolls his eyes at her question.

“A double Captain Morgan’s mixed with Fanta Zero.”

…he could not sound more disinterested. To add a bit more pep to his night, Chloe excitedly bangs her fist on the table.

“Make them triples, and we’ll take eight!”

Beca’s about to object that the server probably can’t and won’t make them those but the bar-tenders already lined up the glasses. Oh. Nevermind.

After that things start to heat up. Other customer’s start to arrive at around nine o’clock, and the Bella’s have moved on from Chloe’s round to their own individual purchases. There’s everything on the booth table (because of course they’d sat by the damn kangaroo), from the refined glasses of white that Posen and Fuentes had elected for, to CR’s rum and coke. Beca noticed that Chloe had gone for yet another bottle of beer, as had she, rather embarrassingly. But the ginger had made her crave a bottle earlier, and Beca was one to indulge in her drinking impulses.

At ten they open the club, and Stacie demands that before they even consider heading upstairs they do shots. Why the fuck would she say that? And why the fuck did Beca agree? They end up doing two rounds of tequila in the end, even Emily, and Beca’s _feeling it_. Fuck. That triple rum… maybe they should slow things down a bit? Stacie’s _sloshed_ , and arm slung over Flo’s shoulder, the girl lets the Latina take her up the stairs in an attempt to dance it off. They should know whether or not that works in about half an hour.

Around this same time, Aubrey elects to head home with Emily. The youngster shouldn’t really have been there to begin with, and whilst it was fun to have her, she’d drank more than enough. The remaining of them all agreed on that, and Emily wasn’t herself objecting. It also sucked for Aubrey, because there was no obvious wheelchair access to the floor above. Chloe offers to carry her up, but Aubrey refuses her.

“No. I’ll just get in the way on the dance floor. Plus, your sweaty bodies being shoved into me and my chair when you dance? Doesn’t really do it for me.”

Gross. But being short, Beca sort of understood it. It was a scarring experience, to find yourself pressed into the armpit of a Football player’s sweaty body. Or maybe that experience was unique to just her? God, she hoped not. Beca and Chloe wait outside with the two until their taxi arrives and they head up the stairs themselves around 11. All things considered waiting 20 minutes for a taxi wasn’t too bad. Beca had also been surprised to learn the two actually lived under the same roof, so actually this was a pretty neat decision for them both. And it was pretty cute of Aubrey to take in the kid.

Back inside the bar, and in the club section, they find Stacie, Flo, Lilly and CR. They’re stood around a small metal drinks-table, and Beca finds she’s sobered up just enough to feel like drinking some more. She accepts Lilly’s offer of a pint and buys her some weird test-tube shot rack in return. Aubrey’d loaned her one hundred and fifty quid from the Bella bank. Considering her bags at their first hotel had y’know, been left deserted due to kidnapping. Aubrey’d also leant her a cellphone so she could cancel her cards thank god. After a two-hour long conversation with the bank earlier that day, Beca had been relieved to find out, that absolutely none of her money had been taken. That deserved a round of beer itself. It was as close to a miracle as Beca had ever come across, that much was true. Maybe later she’d cash in that round though, she was feeling pretty _groovy_ right now.

Currently they’re listening to CR tell an anecdote about her disastrous last date. It’s such a cringe-worthy story that even Beca finds she’s feeling a decent amount of second-hand embarrassment. She takes another swig of her drink, and notes that she’s got a decent amount to finish. It’s near 11:40 and she feels like _dancing_.

“ _Stacie_ , come with me!” Beca whines. Lightly pulling the woman in the direction of the dance floor.

“Sorry chick, I’m still tired from all the _sexy little moves_ I pulled earlier.”

Stacie’s answers, sipping on a glass of water of all things. The experienced hacker had somehow done a 180 tonight and now appeared to be the soberest of them all. Beca was thoroughly impressed. She had to admit, that she hadn’t expected the women to make a comeback without a little… mess. By “mess” Beca meant she expected Stacie to have at least chundered in the toilet. Which to her pride, the woman claimed not to have done.

“ _Sexy moves_.” Flo scoffs. “She can’t dance at all!”

“Yes I can!”

“Not well.” Flo leans closer to Beca and smirks. “She was up there all by herself, dancing alone in the dark! …Dancing alone to despicito is so sad.”

Flo sends a patronising laugh in her girlfriend’s direction, then gives her a playful peck on the cheek. Beca laughs too. It was good to know the Bella’s were capable of being at least some degree flawed.

“Tell you what Beca. You finish my full glass of wine, in the next thirty seconds, and I am up there with you.” Flo states.

Was that a dare?

“That doesn’t sound like a good idea Florencia.”

Chloe lightly laughs. Unlike the rest of the Bella’s however, Beca doesn’t miss the undertones of unease in her voice. The ginger’s been quiet for the last 15 minutes or so, content to happily hum to herself, clearly feeling the effects of her drinking. But now, engaging with them all, there’s a pleasant twinkle in her eyes, and a lazy smile has plastered itself on her face. This is the first time the DJ has seen her look genuinely relaxed. She looks _cute_. Beca hadn’t seen Chloe Beale do _cute_ before.

“Beca?” Flo thankfully interrupts her toxic train of thought.

“Sorry, yes?” Beca blinks back.

“It’s a yes!” Stacie suddenly cheers. Then the whole table laughs, which grabs her attention back. It _WAS_ a dare! She’s kind of hyped up now. Drunk Beca _loved_ dares! Did she just agree to one without realizing? That was so funny.

All of them start counting down, but Beca swears all she does is put the rim of the wine to her mouth, when suddenly she’s on the dance floor. Without much thought she starts swinging and shaking her body to the Eurythmics and Beca gets lost in the unbridled freedom of it all. Two, maybe three more songs pass her by before Beca lowers her hands in dull recognition… because the glass is gone and so is the wine- She stops her dancing and looks around, trying to re-orientate herself.  The other girls are close by, shaking their tits off without an apparent care in the world. It’s what they deserved. Beca’d only met them that day, but she loved ‘em. _Every-one!_ Even Chloe was beginning to grow on her a tad, because credit to her the ginger could fucking dance. _…Hold on a second._ Beca’d just blacked-out, hadn’t she? How long had they _really_ been dancing? What had Beca said and done? Under the strobes and lasers, Stacie somehow spots her change in demure.

“You okay!?” She yells to Beca in the darkness. The shorter woman just nods. Beca had just had too much to drink. Maybe she shouldn’t have anymore.

“Good idea!” Stacie yells back.

Yet another thing she’d said aloud without realizing. As if to verify her decision, Beca feels her stomach begin to lurch. She knew what came next. The delightful room spinning.  Both are early warning signs that she needs to get out of here.

“I’m headed to the smoking area.”

She mumbles to the tall brunette, trying to shake off the dizziness that was beginning to seep into her brain.

“What?”

Stacie yells back. _What?_ Beca doesn’t blame her. It’s near impossible to hear one another over the pounding music.

“I’M HEADED OUTSIDE!” Beca yells again. Stacie nods at her casually and gives her a thumb up.

“COOL!”

Beca wouldn’t be going too far, surely outside couldn’t be counted as straying from her protective bubble. She’d be back before the rest of them even knew she was missing. She just needed a minute.

\----

The dim back alley is the perfect place to let the events from the overwhelmingly action-packed last week finally be processed in her head. Chloe pulls out the cigarette she’d cunningly charmed from the barkeep earlier and twizzles it between her fingers. It was time for some personal stress-relief. The cigarette, had gotten pretty twisted in her jacket pocket but whatever, it just added a bit more pizazz to her setting. She looks up at the unfriendly night. There isn’t an inch of clear sky. Instead, there are clouds; bathed unhealthily in the limelight of Barden’s electric power grid. Something about the interaction makes them appear a slightly unnatural purple. It was a pity that pollution could create beautiful things sometimes. Chloe pulls her thought stream back to more grounded concerns. After all, she couldn’t stop humanity from killing itself, as insignificant to the grand scheme of things as she was.

Under the protection of the ‘roof’, she just about had enough cover to smoke without the light rain interrupting her. Right now, the occasional droplet was just about managing to skim Chloe’s torso; she would be okay as long it didn’t get any heavier. ‘Roof’ was really pushing it. It was more like a slight overhang. She holds the cancer-stick between her teeth and lights up. Grunting a little at the fact that it takes her three attempts to actually produce a flame. Stupid lighter. She should invest in a zippo probably. She lets the drag burn her lungs and throat a little before she exhales. Revelling in the complete silence juxtaposed against the chaos probably occurring within the club. Chloe takes a couple more successful puffs before the sound of an ambulance siren jars her from her meditation. It was only marginally expected. What she didn’t expect to hear afterward were the desperate sobs coming from down the alley.

Chloe squints into the gloom. Wary of moving any closer until she knows exactly what she’s dealing with. Slowly, her eyes adjust to the dark, and everything becomes a tad more clear. At the end of the alley, tucked behind a green dumpster, Chloe can just about make out the small figure of a woman. Her head is in her hands and she’s undoubtedly sobbing. Now she moves. Without really thinking Chloe starts towards her, her instinct to lend a hand swiftly overriding the space for more rational thought. As she gets closer and things become even easier to decipher in the darkness; and the fact that she can see in detail close-up is appreciated. These thoughts however, are quickly discarded when she sees who the woman is.

_“Beca?”_

The voice snaps her out of her fogged mind. Beca looks up to see the shadowy form of Chloe Beale looming above her. She releases an external groan of annoyance. An unexpected audience with the sociopath of all people.

Even Chloe’s near indistinct outline Beca notes with distain, has an admirable figure of sorts. She makes a face before she looks back with some self-loathing to her own pile of sick in the corner. Why couldn’t _she_ look that hot as a morphing blob-in-the-night? Actually, why were all these Bella chicks so good looking? It was a question she kept asking, but one she had yet to find the answer too. Did it come naturally as a part of being a lady-assassin? Did their adventurer vibes somehow grant them more allure? Or did Aubrey only hire hot people? What was nature and what was nurture, that was all Beca wanted to know.

“Why are you crying?”

Chloe asks, and curse the ginger because she says it with what actually sounds like genuine concern. Beca refuses to believe that it could be. That comment she’d made earlier about liking them all was dumb, and she’d been drunk. She didn’t like them all, and she _definitely_ didn’t like Chloe. She _knew_ Chloe, and so her response was most likely a calculated one, a mysterious interaction from one of her many personas. Who knew what its intentions would be? …Or perhaps Chloe wasn’t playing a game with her at all; and there was in reality a tiny shrivelled heart buried somewhere deep inside her chest. Beca seriously doubted that though. Either way, something about the ginger’s move must appeal to her huge state of fragility, because Beca finds she can’t hold back the desperate choke that escapes her mouth in response. _Curse drunk Beca, she was such an emotional ho!_

Chloe is the last person she wants to see her like this. Beca doesn’t want anyone to see her like this, but she would’ve felt comparatively better already had literally any other Bella intruded in on her. It had to be her fucking body guard who found her, didn’t it? Of course. Funnily, earlier Beca had actually decided, late new year’s resolution and all (it was late march, but whatever) that she never wanted to physically interact with Chloe ever again. They’d spent more than enough time together already thanks, at least in close proximity to one another. An image of her father flashes into her head. _Fuck_. Well if Chloe had to do her damn job, then maybe she could just be one of those sly body guards that watched their target all the time from a sniper’s perch. Not seen, not heard. They’d barely even interact with eachother unless it was over radio. It sounded perfect, they both won!

Beca’s tired.

…She had just wanted to go outside for some air. Her chest had sort of felt like it had this huge cannon-ball shot into it ever since Stacie had cracked that joke about Chloe and the pistol-whipping. Post throwing-up, the memories of what she had thought was a black out period had returned. Turns out a lot had happened between the wine-chugging and _Sweet Dreams_. The joke triggered the side of her forehead to throb at the memory, and then she had had some extremely vivid flashes of DSM and Kommisar and Pieter, and the explosion. Beca remembered that part now, the dull terror she’d felt. She screws her eyes shut to avoid thinking about it all again.

 _“I’m not crying.”_ She defiantly answers.

“You’re drunk.” Chloe’s words come out harsh and judgemental. There’s a sudden U-turn of emotion. Like Beca should have expected anything else. She lets the word’s intended venom flow off of her. At least she thinks she does at first. Beca knows she is mature enough to let them go. She’s fine.

 _But then there’s a flash of Chloe, holding a gun to her head. The memory of an indescribable panic as she tries to drunkenly flee onto the balcony of her hotel room as Chloe barges in to take her._ Shit it was starting again. _Beca throws everything she can find to the ground in an attempt to slow her down, anything to slow her down, to trip her up. A cheap vase smashes as she throws it onto the floor. She chucks the room kettle next, the sweetener sachets, a cheap copy of the bible, pillows, she threw the goddamn sheets at her. Beca’s focus flips back to the balcony. None of this was real it had to be a nightmare. This was a nightmare- It was-_ It’s just a memory now. Beca tries to ground herself, but keeps her eyes screwed up tight. Now it was just a nightmare, and she could wake up from it at any point. _Next is the feeling of strong arms wrapping around her waist as she kicks and scratches and screams. Beca struggles and manages to get a grip over the black balaclava of her assailant. She manages to pull it off Chloe’s head, to reveal her blonde hair and surprising womanhood beneath._ Beca’s mind flashes forward again to the present. _She could wake up at any point._ Suddenly her body feels cold. She feels drained. Weak. Drunk. Chloe’s looking at her with an expression of mild concern and Beca realises with some degree of surprise, that the ginger isn’t wearing a mask. The tone of her voice then was never cold. Beca’d imagined it all.

“Yeah. I _am_ drunk.” Beca slurs. “What about it?”

“What happened in there? Did someone hurt you?”

Chloe looks genuinely angry on her behalf for a second, and Beca scornfully laughs. The nerve. The genuine nerve of her to care now that her damn friends did.

“Yeah. **_You_** did.” _Jackass_.

Chloe steps back a little shocked, and then she feels herself move onto the defensive. The breakdown was here. Made sense actually. The smaller woman had done admittedly well to keep her shit together this long.

“I see.” She nods. Tapping on the end of the small cigarette, before offering the thing over to Beca. Chloe supposes it could be interpreted as a peace offering of sorts. As Beca moves forward to take it from her Chloe gets a close up of her eyes; the dullness of them reveals just how out of it Beca actually is. Shit. This night was going to get messier before it got better. Beca takes a slow and deep drag, and the orange tip glows briefly brighter in the night. _It’s oddly beautiful_. Chloe thinks. On exhaling, Beca unexpectedly and uglyly sputters. It’s pretty repulsive to hear all the hacking noises she makes.  Chloe watches as Beca spits on the floor in disgust. Chloe is actually pretty surprised by the strong reaction. Mitchell looked like an experienced smoker. The petite brunette wipes her droolly mouth on her sleeve, or more accurately _Stacie’s_ sleeve, before she looks at her again. Or she could be looking _through_ her. With that drunk and vacant looking stare it was impossible for Chloe to know.

“Ohhhhh, I do not feel good.” Beca moans.

“You don’t look too good either.” Chloe adds. For the first time seeing the pile of sick on the floor.

“ _Fuck_ _you_.”

Beca mumbles. And here came the mess. Chloe was just trying to be honest.

“Look. Beca, you don’t have to like me. In fact, I know you don’t, and I completely get why. You do have to know however, that I am going to continue to do my job for your dad. Despite any disagreements there may be between us.”

“Your job _sucks!_ ”

Beca childishly hurls at her. Chloe does her best to ignore the comment.

“Well, it was this or five years of vet school and enormous debt, so-”

Beca doesn’t even hear her.

“ _You_ suck!”

Chloe sighs.

“Real mature.”

“See, that! That’s- you’re a stick-in-the-mud Chloe. You’re just so negative. I should know, I mean I’m super negative, but its like it’s _me_. Y’know?”

Chloe has no idea what she’s on about. And what was with all the word stressing?

“But _you_ , there is something so _good_ about you. You were positive once. I can tell! You’re not a meanie, no. Not in your heart.”

She pounds her chest with her fist a couple of times as if to articulate her point. Chloe’s quiet the whole time.

“I know, because I _like_ positive people.”

Beca rambles. Chloe has to resist another eye roll. To chart the eye rolling for you, the audience, the total instances of eye rolling between these two individuals at this stage, would read something in a tally like: Chloe (14), Beca (6). Though in Beca’s defence we must remember she was unconscious for a long portion of this tale, and that she has plenty of time to even the score.

“You’re not looking at one.” Chloe says.

 Beca huffs.

“What happened to you Chloe Beale? Tell meeee. Tell drunk Beca.”

Chloe’s eyes narrow. Why was she so insistent on this? She could only think of a few reasons why the girl would suddenly take interest in her life after breaking down on her. The most obvious one being what was quite clear to Chloe, that she’d gotten over her emotional hurdle of drunk and was now back in a comfortable stage of inebriation. Thank god for that. Chloe really didn’t want to deal with Beca’s sobs all night. She leans against the nearby dumpster, and thoughtfully raps her fingers against its lid.

“Have you been talking to Stacie?”

“To supermodel? Not enough! I need to talk to her more, she’s gorgeous.”

Okay now she does roll her eyes (Chloe = 15).

“I meant about _me_ dumbass.”

“Oh… then no.”

Chloe sighs. Beca was clearly out of it. It was inappropriate to talk to her because she was a client, yes, but her clients were temporary, and after her short stint of staying with the Bella’s, Chloe would never have to speak to her or see her again. It wasn’t the most suitable form for emotional unloading sure but… it was a really tempting avenue to take. Chloe really needed to talk to someone at some point about this. Well she _should_ talk to someone about this… the _need_ for it was arguable. She glances at the woman again. Her own tipsiness deciding for her. She focuses on the light buzz she’s feeling and not the pit of awkwardness forming in her belly. She takes in a deep breath. Chloe wasn’t a coward, she could share what she was feeling.

“Well you’re right, I wasn’t always an emotionless Greek statue.”

There were several things wrong with that statement that Beca wanted to counter with. Firstly? Tad vain of Chloe to compare herself to that sort of artistic perfection. She wasn’t wrong, and that level of body confidence was kinda hot, but also, Greek statues weren’t emotionless at all. If she wanted emotionless she would do better to go to Egyptian statues, where movement hadn’t been introduced yet. That was one of the nerdiest trains of thought that had ever escaped her brain. Gross. Back to being a bad bitch.

“No shit?”

Beca gasps sarcastically, falling back into character. Chloe’s quiet. Not like stubborn or furious quiet, just like genuinely sad quiet. It makes Beca feel tense, she regrets her choice of words. Chloe moves to sit on top of the green dumpster, hopping on using an abandoned floor crate. Beca follows her up. Chloe shuffles across to make some room. Thank god this dumpster was for recycling or this whole thing would have been horrifically unhygienic (and smelly). Beca waits for Chloe to begin speaking again. A whole minute of semi-comfortable silence passes. Chloe sighs.

“You know how Aubrey’s… paralysed.”

Beca nods.

“Well that happened two years ago. Aubrey and I were field agents together then, back when the Bella’s were a lot smaller. Fun fact: the two of us started the company together a couple of years prior that; once we’d left the army together. Anyway, things were going pretty well then and we’d just recruited Stace.” The ginger gives a fond grin. “And we were on a mission, guarding an exhibit, when much like at our hotel a few days ago a shootout occurred with DSM. Specifically, with Kommissar and Pieter. It was the first of all our skirmishes, and I underestimated them all. I was dumb, I was _reckless_ , and stupidly cocky. We were winning and I broke cover, thinking I could finish the firefight in seconds. Aubrey was doing ground cover with me. Normally, she safely in a sniper’s nest, but that day she was working ground on my _insistence_ -”

Chloe’s voice cracks on the last word and she stops herself _. Bree should have been covering Chloe from a distance._ She would have been safe. It never would have happened if Chloe hadn’t asked her to run ground with her. It was all her fault. She closes her eyes to stop the destructive thought patterns entering her mind. She’d been working on this.

“What happened?” Beca softly asks. Chloe forces herself to finish the story. Like she always had too. Tears threatened to pool in her eyes. Chloe didn’t cry. _Finish the story._

“She took a bullet for me. From Kommissar’s gun. It was meant for my chest, but Aubrey dived in front of me, just in time, and the bullet hit her below her Kevlar. …and it entered into her spine.”

Chloe swallows emptily. She feels like the world’s swaying slightly, but she can’t seem to get it to stop. But then Beca takes one of Chloe’s hands in hers and suddenly it does. Chloe raises a perfectly sculpted brow in questioning. Beca’s hand is kind of clammy, but also, Chloe finds herself grateful for its warmth. The circulation she had in her own ligaments was goddamn awful.

“Tell me how it ends.”

Beca quietly asks, and for some reason Chloe continues.

“The experience nearly killed her. I watched her just _gush_ blood. In my arms, she just bled out and there was nothing I could do. There was so much red! I remember it being a really _beautiful_ shade; but it was all over my hands, and over Aubrey’s legs, and body and it wasn’t supposed to be. My army training, I don’t know why because _it shouldn’t have_ , it just went out the window. I let DSM take the material we were protecting. It didn’t matter. We lost the contract, the money later, it didn’t matter. I just held her there, and at some point, an ambulance arrived.”

Chloe takes a moment to swallow and recompose herself. Rather unnecessarily she smooths out the creases of her t-shirt then moves to picks at her fingernails as a distraction, moving out of Beca’s grip. Not that there was any need for her to fix her nails, they were still pretty perfect from the manicure she had last week. Calmly she moves them back down to her sides.

“Stacie called the ambulance, apparently.  She said later, that before that, I was yelling down the phone to her about how Aubrey was dead. I must’ve thought she was, but somehow, the paramedics kept her alive. I remember the hospital better. I was by her bedside for the entire two weeks she was in a coma. I don’t think I even showered, until CR forced me to use one on day 4. It was the scariest period of my life. You know, when she was still unconscious and they told me she would never walk again, I felt pure relief that I hadn’t killed her. I felt happy, when they told us that. For a moment I completely forgot what I’d done…”

Chloe’s voice quietens a little. She’d frozen when she was needed. She shouldn’t have frozen, but it was _Aubrey_. Not even when they served together had Chloe frozen, they’d been in so many firefights before, helped eachother medically before, but something about it occurring outside a warzone… when they were both free from the army… Chloe carries on.

“Obviously, when she woke up it was a different story. Seeing her heart _shatter_ over the news…”

Beca watches the ruthless killer completely lose her composure for a _second,_ before her walls are up again. Chloe is now completely silent, but even in the night, Beca sees an inner darkness dim her eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Beca whispers. Chloe’s hands clench white around the dumpster’s edge.

“Yes, it was.”

They sit in the quiet. Chloe hadn’t actually talked to anyone else about the blaming herself part before. The other bits… she’d told only Stacie, who had goaded and goaded her into it, and admittedly there was also her therapist. Of course, the other Bella’s knew the skeleton from what Aubrey had told them, and Chloe was fine with that. They were family and deserved to know at least the basics. The most ironic thing however, is that she could never tell Bree how she truly felt. They never really spoke about it. This event was what cause the rift between them. Both of them didn’t want to make any conversation they held about themselves and reopen wounds. Did they want to know how each other were coping? Yes. Did they want the accompanying empathetic guilt? Chloe wasn’t sure she could take anymore. Which sucked, because even hiding the tiniest thing from her best friend hurt like hell, and she’d been carrying this with her for two whole years. To finally release it… god it hurt. She steels herself. She would _not_ cry in front of Beca Mitchell.  The very concept was beyond mortifying. She’s stuck in an anxious haze, as the repeated though of _your fault, your fault, your fault_ circles the back of her mind like a toy train on a half meter circuit.

Beca leans over and kisses her softly on the cheek. It’s so unexpected and alarming Chloe feels her face swiftly change to the colour of her hair. At least the anxiety spiral dissipates, and for a while her Aubrey problem is forgotten about.

“Sorry, I’m drunk and that… felt like the right thing to do.”

Beca mumbles. Chloe can see now they’re so close to each other, the dull eyes of someone who’s still largely out of it. _Beca had recently thrown up too!_ She unpleasantly reminds herself. Chloe feels the pleasant alarm be replaced by familiar disappointment. A common concept at least where Beca Mitchell was concerned. She shrugs the encounter off as a result. But she’s not expecting to hear what comes out of Beca’s mouth next.

“Chloe… that’s the most human thing you have thus far ever said to me. It’s refreshing. …I don’t know what to say to get you to realize you had no part to play in what happened to Aubrey. In fact, you’re so smart and confident I think a small part of you must already know its not your fault.”

She playfully nudges the mercenary in the shoulder with that comment.

“But I’m not really _here enough_ right now to really make you believe that, so I just want you to know…”

Her voice trails off a bit as Beca tries to remember where the hell she was headed with this. Chloe wonders If the small woman will in fact remember any of this tomorrow. She’s counting on that answer being no.

“-that I like feelings Chloe. She’s much nicer than not feelings Chloe.”

Beca nods as she finishes her rant, clearly having remembered correctly the point of it. Chloe remains unreadable. Not that Beca’s shocked. But now she’s not so bothered by it.

“Now If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to get another frink.”

Beca cheerfully hops off the dumpster.

“Drink.”

Chloe corrects her. Beca snaps her fingers at her in recognition.

“Yes! That’s it! …You’re buying.”

Chloe sighs.

“Only one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER EIGHT! YAY! Phew. We're now heavily into the thick of things, aren't we? To make things worse for myself I also decided to write a short-story on the side, which I'm a third of the way through already. So if you like Percy Jackson and SuperCorp, and the concept of the two combined, there's a short waiting for you on my profile! ...People seem to like it lmao.
> 
> Flacie sails strongly, and BeChloe begins to R-I-S-E! What comes next for our brave heroes? Guess you'll have to wait and see. Many thanks for you for reading thus far, I've also amended chapter one, so it makes a bit more sense and stuff ahaha. (Might be worth a refresher, because I've clarified a few parts of Beca's backstory?) If you liked to feel free to add kudos, bookmark and comment. I loves talking to y'all. 
> 
> See you soon, and have a GREAT summer,
> 
> Britishgal  
> oxoxo


	9. Welcome to Florida!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS!: They're not actually in Florida.

#  Welcome to Florida!

###  Chapter 9

At first it seems like a pleasant warmth, and she can deal with it lightly burning the back of her retinas. The possible permanent damage to her body be damned; summer-time bliss was upon them. But two seconds later, Beca’s scrambling awake and her linen bed sheets are strewn half-way across the room. Her hands fall emptily back to her sides, in throwing everything away, she now had nothing for them to cling onto in frustration. **_Fuck_** _the sunlight!_ Beca takes back everything she’s said. She sends a dismissive wave in the direction of the giant burning sky-orb. Who the hell had pulled up the bedroom blinds? It couldn’t be later than 6 A.M, she could still hear the damn dawn-chorus. She tries to blink the red spots out of her vision as she gazes angrily out the warehouse windows. The orange sun’s just peeking through the cracks in the city skyline.

 

…Her head is _pounding_.

 

With both hands, the small DJ reaches up to rub the sides of her temple. _Alcohol could go fuck itself to_. Stupid, hang-over fuelled intolerance for the day. Wait a moment, the warehouse windows… they looked the same as the one’s at the Bella Base. She realizes with some degree of surprise that that’s probably exactly where she is. But Beca doesn’t recognise the space? Slowly, she gets up off of the king-size, and approaches the intimidatingly large window on the left wall. The view of the ocean seemed to span much farther from here than it did from Aubrey’s office yesterday, so perhaps she was on the floor above? She looks down to take a glace at what she’s wearing, half-expecting it to be the same outfit she was wearing last night: 100% straight. _God fucking_ \- the fucking UNICORN top? …And a loose pair of what looked like men’s cotton trousers, which y’know what? Were surprisingly comfortable, so Beca would allow them on her tiny form. Her next thought is a rather predictable one: **_Chloe_**. So, she was in the ginger’s living quarters. Intriguing.

 

The fact that Chloe had undressed and then re-dressed her was- she pauses a moment to check if she’s still wearing her underwear. _Yep_. Cool, then it was fine. It was still less invasive to her than the **drugging incident** , which she _was still not cool with, at all and never would be_. But frankly Beca had been to college, and Chloe wasn’t the first near stranger to swap her drunken ass into sleeping wear.

 

“You’re awake.”

 

“ _Jesus!-” Beca gasps._

 

Fuck. The older woman really needed to start knocking or something. Maybe Beca could get her a cat bell? Terrible side-effects of possessing ninja-type stealth, you never saw the ginger coming even when Chloe wasn’t trying to hide from you.

 

“Where did you come from?”

 

“Walk in wardrobe.”

 

Chloe gestures to a black cupboard on the opposite side of the room, and Beca can just make out the beginnings of a long clothes rack, decked out with a vast style of jackets and over-coats. It was a major side-perk of owning an entire warehouse, and of living alone on one of it’s levels. There was always plenty floor space. Chloe doesn’t comment this part though, instead shoving her piece of buttered toast back into her mouth.

 

“What time is it?”

 

Irritatingly Beca’s question mean’s she has to take the edible out again.

 

“Six-thirty-nine. Better get up and start getting ready cupcake, work starts at eight.”

 

“You live upstairs! Where you work isn’t even a minute away, is all this really necessary?”

 

Chloe shrugs.

 

“I usually like to get in an early morning work-out in the gym.”

 

“This place has a gym? Also, you’re not even wearing your gym clothes.”

 

Chloe just standing there in her sports bra and some lady-boxers. The assassin hums.

 

“Yeah, you’re right, I’m too hung-over to do a workout today.”

 

That’s not what Beca was hinting at, at all. She was just going to say Chloe should put on a couple more layers or something. The least she could do was put on a t-shirt? Those abs were, _distracting_.  Dammit Beca look out the window! She does just in time to spot a sea-gull flying past, shrieking its goddamn head off. Beca has a mini heart attack at the noise. She fucking _hated_ the morning.

 

“Well if you’re not working out, then why are you awake?”

 

Beca asks. Like Chloe had made her decision based on one irrelevant comment of Beca’s. Beale would never. She didn’t value Beca’s input, she barely valued Beca!

 

“Why are _you_ awake?”

 

Chloe counters, waggling her brows and shoving that fucking bread back into her mouth.

 

“I-” She gives up trying to fight Chloe before their millionth word-war even begins.  It’s not even seven, did Beca really want to do this? Gut feeling, plus the added experience of existing around Chloe Beale for more than an hour, meant she would most likely be up for another twelve minimum. That was a depressing reality. “Dawn chorus.” Beca mumbles in defeat.

 

Chloe gazes at her with those piercing baby blues and nods, as if Beca’s managed to say something of profound deepness. That or she was pissed at her. Chloe’s piercing looks were so similar Beca sometimes got them mixed up.

 

Turning her attention now to the room’s inner décor, Beca’s actually pretty impressed by what she sees. White plastered walls, _minimalistic_ , gave the room a clean and modern edge. On the far wall was a mesh shelf, or box, functioning as a book case, and below it a dyed-wooden desk in black. All sharp corners, no draw, keeping up with that contemporary theme. Both aspects seemed rather masculine, but paired with the aloe on the desk and the succulents, and were those fairy lights? Ballerina ones. _Oh-my-god,_ Beca smirks. Yeah, she shouldn’t laugh at the fairy lights, but she totally hadn’t pegged Chloe for the type. At least now she got her a bit more though. Props.

 

On the desk there’s a single navy notebook and pen, near that a silver macbook air. Now an Apple user she _had_ assumed Chloe to be. Douche. (Her own iPhone didn’t count, because that was second hand, and its screen was cracked in the corner. So, that just made her seem artistic and cool.)

 

On the white walls about the room are art prints. Specifically, posters of different sizes from exhibits all around the world. Some are framed, the ones around her desk just pasted on with tape. Hanging above her bed, is- some sort of Native-American blanket. The beauty of it actually takes Beca’s breath away. She turns around to ask Chloe about it but that’s when she spots the most interesting piece. Right by the walk-in closet, actually. Beca didn’t know how she’d missed it.

 

“Nice print.” She breathes.

 

Beca means it. Like it was seriously nice. Beca would certainly pay to have this in her tiny apartment. Not that she would have any space for it in the studio. Beca had expected living alone in her first apartment to be more exciting if she’s honest. For the most part in reality it was pretty boring, and lonely. At least in her dorms there was always a friendly face to talk too, or someone to annoy you by setting off the fire-alarm at 3am. And now she didn’t get the student package deals and was paying _taxes_ everything seemed to be extortionately priced. Then again it was hard to find a place in New York city which _wasn’t_. Beca was in desperate need of a roommate actually. The sooner she moved into someplace more pleasant the better. That, or she could finally call herself out on her own bullshit and actually make that move out to LA. If and when she managed to find a stable job there of course.

 

“Hmn? Oh that?” Chloe answers. “Thanks, it’s a Warhol. Picked it up on assignment when I was out in LA, decided to get it framed-”

 

“LACMA?”

 

Beca interrupts, Chloe gives an empty smile at that. She never did like her word flow broken up.

 

“The Broad.” 

 

Chloe answers back briefly, before once again disappearing back into her walk-in wardrobe.

 

Beca nods to herself, she doesn’t take too much notice, she’s too busy focusing on the painting. It was a good replica. Like a _seriously_ good replica. Neatly framed in its black wooden boarder, full size, with a replica signature-”

 

Something dawns on Beca.

 

“Wait, I am looking at a _replica_ here? Right?”

 

Because Chloe’s comment about exhibit guarding last night… Chloe re-emerges from the wardrobe in a neat black turtleneck, adjusting her brown leather shoulder holster. Beca averts her eyes again. _And she’s still not wearing any trousers!_ The two of them really needed to establish some ground rules on the clothes front. For the pants part, there’s significantly less effort from Chloe here, who just shucks on a pair of khaki cargo pants she’d left lying on the floor. From how long ago these dated Beca dared not ask. Charming.

 

Chloe lamentingly sighs.

 

“Unfortunately, yeah.” She addresses Beca quickly yet again, before she’s off into what Beca assumes is the place’s living quarters.

 

“Aubrey insisted we give the real one back.”

 

Chloe’s voice is muffled, even more so by the sound of the dividing walls, but Beca hears her clearly enough; Their brief conversation comes to an end, interrupted by the sound of a rumbling kettle trying to come to boil. Beca hadn’t even been up twenty minutes and she was already beginning to feel her energy drain. These girls made Beca feel like she was millions of years old, and dammit the only one who should be doing that was Emily! Trailing down the dark hallway after her body-guard she prays that the ginger keeps fresh coffee in here somewhere. None of that instant crap, not today, Beca needed the _strong_ stuff. Art theft. Well, _near_ art-theft. The Bellas: thieves, kidnappers and murderers, now that seemed like a better application for the title of triple-threat.

\----

The relief when Beca spots Chloe with a pot of brewed coffee is indescribable. She lets the waft of the slightly burnt beans fill her nostrils and with the pleasant aroma all her muscles voluntarily unclench. Fuck yes. She leans herself into the marble counter and lets the assassin hand her a mug. Beca takes a moment to examine the chipped motif.

**_Welcome to Florida!_** It reads.

_Thanks_.

Beca really loved the abundance of elderly racists and crocodiles the place had to offer.

“Dash of cream?” Chloe asks politely.

Beca had expected a classier form of cutlery from Beale, because certainly the ginger wasn’t lacking in monetary funds. So, what was up that meant Beca had to drink from something like this? But yeah, she’d take the cream. Beca rolls her eyes, Chloe of course only had it available in those stupid hotel sachets. She supposed the ginger was on the road often enough, that she could just pick them up as she went. Save her coming home to any off-food. She dumps the two empty cartons on the side of the counter.

Anyway, enough distracting herself by pondering her morning drink. Beca now had to ask the difficult question that she’d been wanting to ask Chloe since she first figured out where she’d woken up. Beca clears her throat.

“Did we sleep together again? Like in the bed…”

Because they should probably stop doing that. Beca continuously waking up in Chloe Beale’s bed was sending the wrong message out to someone, somewhere. Chloe chokes on her coffee mid-sip.

“Oh. Uhhh no. My living room couch is a pull out. I slept on that all night. It’s pretty useful for when I have the girls around for a movie or something. Or for when one of them has to stay at work late.”

“Why didn’t you give me the pull out?” Beca asks confused.

Chloe smiles softly, like she’s wondering the same thing almost.

“You were um.” Her smile widens cheekily. “You were pretty insistent that you got the main bed last night.”

“Oh my god, I was?” Beca gasps.

Chloe laughs. With her and not at her. That musical one she’d heard when they’d first met and she was drunkenly lamenting her ex. This time though, its nicer. It’s genuine. Probably because Chloe isn’t planning some sort of evil-scheme on the side this time. Something about that truth means the sound is actually somewhat endearing to the aspiring music producer.

“Yeah! You were insane last night. You went on this rant about this guy you used to see?”

Oh god, so clearly Beca had recognized this comparison last night as well. She wasn’t normally this much of a mess, she swears. Her university friends would die hearing this. Speaking of university friends…

“Oh my god, not _Jesse!?_ ”

“ _YES!_ That was him!”

Chloe says, snapping her fingers in recognition. With all her trademark composure, she can’t quite hide the excited squeal beneath her words.

Beca groans into her hands, too embarrassed to care about Chloe liking gossip. Though at other points she would have considered that interesting. Perhaps her hypothesis about Chloe maybe being a cyborg-robot was incorrect?

“ _Noooo_.” She continues to groan.

“No Beca, it wasn’t that bad-”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.”

Beca starts groaning even louder. Chloe couldn’t even _try_ to give her fake comfort. Beca would reject it _all_ on the spot. So, it had been one of those drunk nights. One of her especially rare black-out ones. They only came around once a year or so, but god did they suck. The things people told her afterward about herself. **_It wasn’t that bad?_** That meant last night must have been _mortifying_. **_It wasn’t that bad_** meant that the evening had most likely been a fucking disaster. This was genuinely humiliating news. Drunk Beca was such an embarrassing asshole. Beca hated her.

Chloe was laughing super hard right about now. Beca has to laugh along with her or she might cry. She makes some serious effort to stifle and further moaning. The cry-laughing was only confirming all her fears.

“What else did I say?” She prompts. Chloe takes her up on her cue.

“You mentioned this other guy too? Someone you kept saying looked like a turtle of all things!”

Chloe’s back to snorting with laughter.

“Theo?” Beca winces.

“Yes! Who is he though?”

Beca rolls her eyes. Turtle boy was a huge pain-in-her-ass is who he was.

“ _Was_ he. He was a douche-bag TA who had the hots for me back at NYC. Jesse and I used to tease him all the time behind his back. It was one of the ways he claimed to have ‘courted’ me.”

“Oh, he courted you?” Chloe teases.

“Yeah.”

To use her exe’s dumb language.

“Jesse _courted_ you?”

Chloe repeats amused.

It was cheesy but what about it?

“ _Yeah_.”

Beca replies again. Now starting to get a little irritated with the ginger. Chloe senses this, and her amusement dies down, taking with it the briefly relaxed vibes the two had shared with eachother. There’s an awkward pause as they take a break to finish their coffees. Chloe’s the first to shatter the change in mood, clanking her empty mug onto the table top. Finishing their coffees may have been an overly strong statement, as Beca was only half-way through her own.

“Whilst we’re clarifying things today, we should probably also discuss what happened outside the bar.”

“Okay?”

Beca tries to think what Chloe could possibly be referring to. When were they outside last night? For Aubrey and Emily, for their own pick-up too she assumes, and a third time when Beca felt ill. Oh. She remembers her hand gently pressing Stacie’s shoulder as she moves off the dance-floor. Beca remembers the stench of vomit and leaning heavily into the red-brick of a back-alley. There’s gazing dazed into a darkened purple sky and looking down again at a green-dumpster. _Oh_.

There’s sitting on it. Beca’s hand brushing lightly over Chloe’s.

…Chloe had talked to her about Aubrey. Specifically, about how Commander Posen had gotten paralyzed, which was why Chloe was such a grumpus. And then drunk Beca had kissed Chloe on the cheek. _Ah_. As hard as she tries to think about what comes after that, there’s no other memory in Beca’s mind until waking up in Chloe’s bed this morning. Maybe they’d all come back to her later?

“Do you remember?”

“Yes, I think I do.”

Beca’s cheeks flush red with embarrassment. The important bits are what she recollects anyway.

“I kissed you.” Beca gulps. “ _On the cheek_. Sorry about that.”

Chloe waves a dismissive hand in her direction.

“You actually already apologized for that. But as long as it’s not going to be an issue for us at a later date?”

_Like hell it would! _As if Beca actually liked Chloe like that. Psh! It was a drunken gesture of comfort and that was all. It wouldn’t happen again. Murderers and kidnappers, no matter their physical state of beauty held zero sexual appeal for Rebecca Mitchell. She didn’t have the highest of standards, but she liked to at least think she was _rational_.

“I can guarantee that.”

Beca answers. Chloe isn’t sure if the words are to comfort her or the DJ herself. Either way they were sort of harsh.

“In this line of work, I wouldn’t ‘guarantee’ anything.” Chloe says.

“Not even my one-hundred percent safety?” Beca jokes.

Chloe swiftly marches back in the direction of her bedroom, and back down the yellow hallway, effectively evading her question. Beca knows its deliberately to annoy her. But _fuck_ that doesn’t stop her mildly panicking none-the-less.

“ _Chloe?_ ”

“I took the liberty of washing your one set of clothes. They’re in the drier waiting for you. Feel free to take a jacket of mine though if you want to mix things up. I have more than enough.”

\----

Beca never thought she’d be happy to be back in the Bella base, but considering how awkward the last hour and a half had been loitering at Chloe’s, she’s glad for the distraction. Beca’d been stuck for things to do, bar watch TV, which felt pretty feeble in comparison to Chloe’s housekeeping and general ‘non-workout’. (Pull-ups over the hallway door frame. A-B-S and arms.) …Oh my god, Beca really needed to get laid.

Now the two are stuffed into the crowded glass meeting room, along with the rest of the Bella’s, and Beca’s feeling like exactly like a corporate stiff. A feeling she had always wanted to avoid. Chloe’s hand snaps out to stop her from swivelling in her leather chair and holds her chair arm in a vice-like lock. The ginger is looking her sternly in the eye. Alrighty then, guess that game was ruined for her.

At the head of the table, Aubrey’s tapping on her notebook with a familiar looking metal pen.

“ _So_ last night, what did we find out?”

Beca tries to ignore the small stab of pain that appears in her skull as she raises her eyebrows. Yes. She too would also like to know if they’d managed to obtain anything of use. Because all _she_ remembers is mostly a blur once they hit that dance floor. Had any of them been sober enough to conduct decent intelligence work? Probably not. Beca was willing to let that criticism slide however considering her own nightmarish behaviour. If the Bella’s were inadequate messes, they weren’t the only ones. It was an ironically sobering revelation. Aubrey continues for them.

“We know that it was Amy’s bar, that much was clear. But none of the other occupants seemed to know anything about her operations.”

CR sighs.

“Yeah, all the bartenders were squeaky clean.”

“So were most the clientele.” Emily joins in.

_But not all of them_. Chloe thinks, remembering back to their incident the night before.

“Beca and I found out some interesting stuff, didn’t we Becs?”

“We did?” Beca blinks back unhelpfully.

_Did they really?_

Chloe sends an empty smile in her direction.

“Yup! In fact, we know exactly where we can find Amy.”

Beca hopes that Chloe is telling the truth right now, because she certainly doesn’t recall hearing anything like that. She was never getting that drunk ever again. (She promises she can keep to that swear for at least the next three months, but after that was pushing it.)

“Thanks to Beca’s… state of inebriation, I received assistance from two kindly gentlemen last night.”

 “I bet you did.” Stacie winks.

Flo thwacks her hard in the side. For once Chloe’s grateful for their mild relationship abuse. The two were just as smart and as wild as each-other and it made for a sometimes-dramatic pairing.

_State of inebriation_ , oh god. Beca feels her face flush redder than it possibly had in years. At least the other girls didn’t seem to be thinking any less of her for her actions. Apart from Aubrey maybe, but Beca had a feeling the Bella leader wasn’t all that fond of her from the start. She tries to comfort herself with her own small nugget of wisdom. It was far better to be the butt of some amused banter than detested. At least this mild roasting felt like the sort that was aimed at her in good faith.

Unknownst to Beca, (probably because she was near passed out in Chloe’s arms at this point), Chloe was referring to the platonic assistance she had received from the club bouncer and their taxi driver. Turns out their driver, Donald, knew the bouncer from when the both worked the club scene a couple of years back. The two men had a brief chat outside the bar, and Chloe had listened in quietly, smugly, until they had entered the car. Beca was… extremely awkward to strap in. If she was going to be in Chloe company for much longer, she really needed to start getting her shit together, honestly. It would be helpful if she could at least walk somewhere on her own because she was getting strong Night and Day vibes. Back to the cab driver anyhow. In the car, himself and Chloe had gotten talking, and in their conversation, she had found out he was an ex-treble.  He’d even shown Chloe his gang tattoo! Apparently, he’d quit the gang business when he’d earnt enough money to start up his own taxi-company. _But had he ever met the boss?_ Chloe asked him. After all that’s what she wanted to know, and Donald said _he had, yeah_. Fat Amy had given him the loan to set up his company, and with the interest he’d given her back she’d bought a patch of brown-site in west Barden that was going to be transformed into a new gym / flats. Chloe was smart enough to know it was likely to be more than that. It was likely a legal company to funnel all the treble’s money through because that was how these gangs worked.

“So, we’re assuming what? That Amy spends her days at a building site?”

Stacie hums, half listening to her story and already on her touchpad. Chloe assumes she’s scouring Google Earth and the whole of west Barden for it. Chloe smiles to herself. She _was_ given a precise address, but their hacker seemed too invested for her to feel like speaking up. She’d find it on her own within a minute somehow anyway, and _yeah_ Amy was definitely there. At least for the next two weeks anyway if you were to believe Donald.

“There!” Stacie yells triumphantly, and Chloe smirks. Knew it.

She watches Stace turn off the lights in the room with her tiny black remote and listens to the small bleep of the projector as it jumps to attention. The entire collective turns to the big screen at the back to watch the aerial map appear, and all hold their breath in apprehension. So where exactly was their prized mark? They were all highly invested. All that was, except Beca. Beca’s eyes are lost watching the small specks of dust floating carelessly in the light-beam. Chloe rolls her eyes. It was kind of cute though.

Her attention moves back to the projector screen, and her eyes widen when she sees just how big this plot of land is.  Its half built on, barely the building’s concrete frame is in place, and there’s rubble everywhere. Was this photo recent? Stacie pulls up some schematics for them to place alongside it, which confirms that yep, these photos are. This photo could have been taken yesterday, but the timestamp says two weeks ago. Close enough.

“Woah.” Lily murmurs quietly.

The rest of them hear it and have to nod in agreement. It was _big_.

Chloe had to give the Australian woman some form respect, because despite her lack of a formal higher education, Amy knew how to run a business. She had done extremely well for herself despite rejecting her crime-boss father’s inheritance. She kept to her roots by adopting the family business, but doing so independently meant she held stronger autonomy, and therefore she was a much more powerful player in the underground world that she would have been otherwise. Amy was never going to be held under another person’s thumb, and that was rebellious _, ballsy_. Chasing a dream and building a world of your own always was. It was in some ways also the hardest of challenges, which was probably why Chloe highly admired those traits so much in a person. Chloe _liked_ brave.

“It’s certainly ambitious of them.” Emily mumbles.

“It’s like something on the scale of a Hilton.” Flo comments.

“She’ll probably be one of those cabin things.” CR gestures. Focusing them all back onto Amy.

In the corner sure enough, Beca can make out some small dark grey rectangles. Which she assumes are the Elliot buildings or temporary builds, whatever they were calling them now. Despite the intimidating vibe of the future build, the current residence looked very unintimidating. On the perimeter you could just make out the green plyboard fencing to keep people out, and other that the lighter grey exoskeleton of the future hotel, and the building equipment; two yellow diggers, a small blue crane and three skips. Quite minimalistic all things considered. There were some other… less obvious blobs that Beca assumed were building materials. Whatever they really were however, Beca was sure they were soon to find out.

Now it was Aubrey’s turn to come up with some assignments for them all. Okay well maybe not Beca, but probably Chloe and the rest, right? This was their shindig now.

“So, what the plan boss?” Flo calls out, reading Beca’s mind apparently.

Aubrey chews on the inside of her lip for maybe a five second period before she releases it. She’s figured it all out. Beca’s actually pretty impressed by the quickfire problem solve. It helped to just listen in sometimes.

“Chloe, Beca, take the monitoring van, Beca’s going undercover. Stace, you’re on monitoring duty, go with them but _do not_ leave the van. CR, make sure everything inside is functional before they set off. Take Emily with you for long distance support and set her up on the roof of this apartment building here.”

Aubrey stretches in her chair to a brown building opposite the longest rectangular structure in the build-site.

“Flo I want you backing Stacie from the IT room, where I’ll be waiting with you. Lily…”

They all turn to face the eager-faced Japanese woman. Aubrey sighs.

“Try not to blow anything up while we’re busy.”

Lily slyly grins but gives a small nod.

Beca gives a worried frown. Aubrey already looks like that command has failed. _Wait how often did the scientist blow stuff up in here? Should Beca be worried at all?_ Not saying too much else, the commander starts to wheel toward the office exit, and the other’s wait patiently for her to leave. Beca still has a lot of questions. That seemed like a solid plan, and she assumed in all those brief commands Posen had given, that there was probably some code that the Bella’s understood right? She could tell they all had excellent chemistry with eachother from her experience last night. They probably worked in the field together like a well-oiled machine. But herein lay the problem: they all knew _their_ part to play, but Beca didn’t know hers. _Undercover!?_ That seemed like a very dangerous position. She’d have to ask Chloe about what that entailed at some point on the sly. What if she mucked up the whole operation for everyone?

“Alright. Everybody gear-up, you’re all dismissed. Chloe, brief Beca along the way, and try not to get her killed.”

(Oh, thank god for that.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I wrote (and finished) an entire fic in the in-between because I wanted a break from this one! WHy? Because I'm an idiot, that's why. But yeah, if you like supercorp or supporting a writer's work then... pls check it out. (It's a Percy Jackson AU, YAY ANCIENT GREECE!)
> 
> BACK TO THIS! Get ready for Fat Amy (I am SO ready for her to enter the scene.) Also referring to the last chapter, I really hope Cate Blanchett never hears of this, I'm not worthy, and that's like a weird irrational fear of mine now. Also wanted some domestic fluff, so wrote some wholesome!Chloe here which I hope y'all like. Anyway thanks for being patient, still reading, and if you're new WELCOME and please feel free to kudos, bookmark and comment!!!! I love interacting with you.
> 
> Much love,  
> Britishgal  
> oxoxo


	10. Wolf Biscuit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #Four girls, sitting in a hot-tub, barely apart because they're gay.

#  Wolf Biscuit

###  Chapter 10

Driving somewhere by spy-van is as underwhelming as Beca had imagined. Parking somehow even more so. There’s very little room for her and Legacy in the back amongst all this tech crap, and it is stiflingly warm with all of it running. Stacie had insisted it needed too though, because setting up on site, they might have missed observing something important. But don’t worry, they had a tiny fan ready to keep them cool! (It did not, and Stacie must’ve known it wouldn’t.) Yet another complaint Beca needed to file to HR. Cruel work conditions for employees and in this case also clientele. Stacie and Chloe had escaped this nonsense by shot-gunning the front to seats as soon as they’d entered the Bella garage, and therefore had all the glory of the AC. The only way they had of receiving this cooled air was through a tiny slat that divided the front from the back. The layout sort of reminded her of the interior of a taxi. Aside from that negativity, this was one of the rare occasions where Beca’s small stature actually ventured in her favour. She could at least fit in the space with a degree of elegance, Emily on the other hand was like a giant stuffed unglamourously into a dollhouse. The poor girl was a tangle of awkwardly placed limbs in the seat opposite. Side-ways facing seats… unnecessary spy bullshit.

As the back doors open, and the girls are hit once again with natural sunlight and Beca happily sighs. Fresh air. She’d never been so grateful. At least now she knows why the leggy brunette hadn’t been so keen to come with them at first. Half-an-hour in that back of that thing and Beca was already craving a quick death; it was safe to say Stacie’s job outside her office sucked tits. Before she’s even moved, Emily barges past her, picking up a medium-sized black metal case as she does so. One that had been rattling around for the entire god-damn length of the journey. It could easily be mistaken for a case that held some sort of musical instrument judging by the array of travel stickers on it: Miami, Paris, oh look there was one for Beijing! Beca realizes with some degree of surprise that the case must actually be Em’s. Knowing that it was the Olympian’s actually makes her smile falter. Definitely not an instrument then.

“Oh, thank god I can move!” Emily gasps. “I don’t know how you do it Stace, it’s so claustrophobic in there.”

Stacie shrugs. Beca’s quick to take initiative and follows Emily out.

“It’s a lot more bearable with only one occupant, and when you’ve got a shit ton of snacks with you.”

Well comfort food would make any scenario better.

“Also-” Stacie continues. “I’m pretty bad-ass.”

“Yeah you are, girl!” Chloe murmurs appreciatively. This in turn makes Stacie grin from ear to ear.

Beca raises her eyebrows. For a moment there she thought Chloe was actually going to slap Stacie playfully on the ass. Was that comment- Did the ginger just do something in her own manner of light-hearted? Their emotional talk had really done Chloe a world of good! Beca beams to herself feeling a little proud.

“Right!” Chloe barks, making Beca nearly jump out of her skin. “I suppose we need a plan.”

“Don’t we have a plan?” Beca interrupts. “Didn’t Aubrey give you a plan?”

“Aubrey gave us a _skeleton_ of a plan.” Chloe counters.

Yeah, and Chloe still needed to fulfil her end of the job and teach Beca what the hell to do next, because Amy was just across the road, and thus far her espionage training was non-existent.

“Legacy, you should hit up that fire-escape and turn on comms. Channel eight. Stace will be on the other end.”

Emily nods, and without another word starts to head for the alley behind the patisserie they were currently in front of. Subtle. They were in broad day light. But Beca guesses they could afford to be a little lazy. Glancing around her, she notices that the streets are actually empty, which is pretty weird for a city, but not so unusual for a Monday afternoon. Everything had shut early in West Barden. Figures.

“What about your comms?” Stacie says.

Chloe shrugs.

“Doubt We’ll need ‘em. Besides we’re going in as undercovers, and Amy seems like the sort to check for comms and bugs on entry.”

Stacie hums knowingly.

“Aubrey’s not gonna be happy about this.”

“Why does Aubrey have to find out? Just say you forgot to patch her in or something.”

Stacie stops to mull it over for all of two seconds before she’s got her finger pressed to her ear. Something about the way she interacts with the scenario makes Beca thinks that Chloe pulls this stunt pretty often, which is so not cool of her.

“Emily? Ginger nut and Bourbon are dipping into the tea cold, please switch to channel ten.”

Please tell Beca their code names on this mission were not named after biscuits. She always thought she was more of a chocolate digestive besides.

Channel ten, unknownst to both Beca and Chloe, was a unique system Stacie had devised to counter Chloe’s go-it-alone cavalier attitude. The problem was, if it patched through directly to Aubrey, and the ginger found out about it, then Stace would be in the doghouse for violating her trust. But likewise, were it a dead channel, as Chloe assumed it was, having no viable access to back up would leave her friend in serious danger. Stacie had been there when they’d had to save Aubrey’s life, and she’d never forgive herself if anything like that were to happen to her friend. That’s why channel ten patched through to CR’s radio in the garage, which their mechanic too was unaware of. Stacie smirks. In a way she was looking forward to the comedy of it all when shit finally hit the fan. She listens patiently to Em’s response.

“What? Yes. Then we’ll go for the finger-cross. Just keep an eye-out for us, and we promise to stand in view of windows at all times. Okay, then we’ll try to at least. Happy?”

“Us?” Chloe interjects.

Stacie huffs.

“Well if you’re going to make my job redundant, I might as well come with you.”

Chloe surprisingly is pretty chill about this logic.

“Yeah alright. Just be cool though.”

“I can do that.”

Stacie beams, confidently striding past the girls, already on her way to the gates to the construction site. Chloe and Beca trail lazily after her. Beca thinks that Chloe might be a little too calm about the situation all things considered. None of them were armed, Chloe had dismissed access to intel i.e. Stacie listening in on them, and now they’d been cut off from communication with Emily who was supposed to be covering them. That was bound to make Junk’s job infinitely harder than it needed to be. Why did Beale have to be so spontaneous sometimes?

Across the road, the girls observe the heavy lock on the metal gate. The chain leaves enough room for maybe Beca to squeeze through, but there was no way the other two were going to make it.

“Easy.” Stacie smirks, producing a small contraption from her fleece pocket. “Lock gun. Lily certified.”

That would explain the tasteful bedazzling and the engraved “Property of Lily” on the side of it. The chain comes undone in seconds, and the metal piece dully thuds to the floor. Chloe is the first to enter the compound, followed by Beca then Stace. Beca pulls at Chloe’s sleeve, forcing the ginger to turn and face her.

“What is it?”

“You are going to train me at some point, right? We’re undercover, and I have no idea what it is that I’m meant to be doing.”

She speaks just low enough to avoid Stacie being able to hear.

“I mean you’re not really undercover. You’re just being you for all intents and purposes. Amy sees you, you reconnect, we gather intel, the only part you keep under wraps is who we are.”

She gestures to Stacie and herself.

“Amy doesn’t know who we work for, or find out what we’re really doing. Capisce?”

“But then who are you to me?”

“Just a couple of friends you met in college. Don’t overthink it.”

That was like asking a vegan to not mention that they were vegan for five minutes, which was to say, a very difficult ask.

“EXCUSE ME!”

A man’s voice bellows out from their left. They all turn to see a stocky looking guy in his mid-thirties, wearing low slung jeans and vibrant reflective jacket storming toward them. Behind them a much more attractive guy, minus a pot-belly like the other had also making his way over. He’d be hear a lot faster if he wasn’t walking like a twat.

Older pot-bellied guy continues.

“This is private property. You have no right to be here.”

The younger guy saunters up behind him, and leans on the guys shoulder, looking over Beca with a hungry eye. Beca has to look at the other two girls standing beside her. Really? Beefcake had chosen her to gawk at. She was flattered, but also not. No thanks weird builder guy, not today. Preferably not ever actually.

He sniffs.

“You looking for treble?”

Did he seriously just say that? Lame. The minor (we’re talking less than 1%) bit of attraction she had to him dissipates instantly.

“Actually, we’re looking for your boss.” Beca answers them.

Chloe steps slightly in front of her, body-guard mode apparently activated over his minor misstep.

“What you couldn’t have waited and called for us at the gate like regular people?”

The older guys say in disbelief.

“The gate was already unlocked.” Beca responds innocently.

Maybe this undercover gig was as easy as Chloe had claimed it to be. She watches with some amusement as the older guy turns to the younger, ready to berate him.

“I told you to make sure no one could get in!”

“It was locked, I’m sure of it! These fine-looking ladies must be lying to you!”

The younger guy stutters. The older man whacks him on the arm.

“Don’t insult potential customers, what are you? Tch. And it’s 2018, stop with the sexual harassment! Jeez. Us builder guys have enough of a bad rep as it is.”

The older guy tilts his construction helmet and wipes away the beads of sweat beneath, clearly feeling some of that managerial pressure.

“My name’s Carson, I’m the foreman here. I’m so sorry for any inconvenience, but we have to be careful who we allow in here, y’know? If one of you guys get into trouble, gets injured? The company is liable, we all lose our jobs, my husband gets angry…”

Chloe nods.

“Unnecessary family angst.”

“Exactly.” Carson sighs.

“Anyway, if you both stay here with Tommy, and I’ll go check with the boss if you can come visit. What’s ya name?”

“That’s really kind of you, thanks.” Chloe flashes that damn smile again. Beca has to resist the urge to shake her head. She takes over from the charismatic ginger with a degree of annoyance.

“It’s Beca, Beca Mitchell. Amy and I grew up together. I’m just stopping by for a surprise visit.”

Carson just nods in a way that shows that in truth he really couldn’t care less.  Which is understandable really, but Beca feels slightly wounded none-the-less.

“Jacky-boy look after them, and don’t let ’em wander off.”

He finishes, and Jacky-boy, whom she assumes is really just “Jack” grins at them dumbly. The more Beca interacts with the man-child the more obvious it becomes that he only has about three brain cells. They watch Carson wonder off in the direction of the biggest temporary build with some longing. It’s not long before the young man feels the need to speak.

“So shawty, did it hurt much at all when you fell from heaven?”

Chloe and Stacie start smirking at her and stand there unhelpfully like a bunch of dicks.

“Did it hurt when your mom called for your lobotomy?”

She retorts. He laughs and moves toward her a little. Beca does not like that look in his eyes. Is she the only one that sees it?

“I like a girl with some fire in her.”

“Funny, because I don’t like you at all.” Beca answers.

And with her response both Stacie’s and Chloe’s attitudes become a bit more serious.

“Yeah dude. Maybe you should back up a little now.” Stacie jokes, trying to keep it all light-hearted.

“Nah, we’re just having fun aren’t we Beca?”

Before Beca can even get the opportunity to respond, there’s a flash of movement on her right. Suddenly, Jack releases a pained cry and is on the floor. Beca blinks, and Chloe has him there pressed to the ground, one arm pinned behind him in an arm-lock.

“Y’know? I think I’ve gotten tired out waiting for your boss to come back.”

Chloe yanks his arm further upward, eliciting a further gasp of pain from the guy.

“Shit, ARGH. What the hell?”

“Where’s Amy?”

“I thought we were going for subtly here?” Stacie murmurs. Beca’s too delighted to honestly care too much about that right now.

“The main office! Check the main office! Hnng!” Jack gasps.

Stacie yanks his ID necklace of him.

“Thank you.” She sweetly hums.

Walking away from a now severely bruised (both mentally and physically) Jack, the trio move in the direction they saw Carson go. They ascend the battered concrete steps of the temp build to see a security camera outside the wood-and-glass front doors. Stacie looks dead into it and gives a brief salute before she swipes the stolen ID. The door opens with a pleasant bleep.

The inside is bright, and much MUCH larger that it appeared to be from the outside. It was kind of a like a Doctor Who Tardis scenario. The walls are beige, the windows mounted with cheap grey black-out blinds. Though if you were going to inhabit a small space for no more than a year long, Beca supposes you’re not going to go all out on the decoration front. That being said, other than that, it’s as little like an office space as Beca could expect from her friend. Amy was never one to follow the rules of tradition. If contemporary consisted of up-to-date decor and futuristic looked like the things you saw in Star-Trek, then Amy’s style could be considered as pre-futurist. To her right in the far corner, there’s a couple of deck-chairs, kitted out with a couple of inflatable beach balls and a small sand pit. Beyond them and fitted into the wall is a large flat-screen TV, rigged up to what looked like a PS4 gaming system. Closest to them there’s a retro-style meeting table, with a vinyl top that looked as if it could fit at least ten people. The chairs parked around it seemed expensive, and looked like they cost more than Chloe’s monthly wage. They definitely were worth more than Beca’s. Behind those, near the PS4, are two pinball machines faced back to back, framed by a couple of potted palm trees, and straight ahead of them are two vending machines. One apparently dispensed any flavour cola, the other, warm corndogs on a stick. This place was somewhere out of Beca’s personal dreamland.

To her left, it got even more interesting. There was a huge fake garden hedge? That ran nearly floor to ceiling, half way across the room width, and it was thoroughly confusing her. Behind it Beca can hear the sound of… bubbling water or something. It’s then she notes Carson actively talking to the hedgerow. She probably should have spotted that first. He turns to look at her, and his mouth opens in shock.

“How di- how did you all get here?”

He gasps as he moves toward them. Some really great security works this place had going for it.

“You can’t get in here without a-”

Carson tries to continue. Stacie holds up the key card before he can finish.

“Without this?”

She answers him defiantly.

Then there’s the splashing of water, from what Beca assumes is either going to be a hot-tub or a miniature pool, she isn’t so sure. It’s quickly followed by the clattering of feet on a ladder. Could that be Amy? Beca braces herself to meet her childhood friend. What the hell she was going to say to Amy after all these years was anyone’s guess.

“You need to leave. Like immediately.”

Carson presses on, but at this point no one’s really interested in a thing he’s saying. He’s not the top dog, and it’s clear he’s not the only one present in the cabin. Surely the other occupant had to be the person they were here for.

The mystery swimmer round the hedge, they’re all expecting Amy, or at least another woman, but instead they’re all met with… a male super-model. There’s no other way to describe him other than looking like a younger Alex Pettyfer, back when he was blonder. Well that was an old-throwback. What had happened to that guy anyway?

“Hi.” He smiles.

Beca swears Stacie nearly faints right there on the spot. Chloe waves at him flirtily. Carson swallows. Clearly, he thought he was going to be in a lot of trouble later.

“This is…”

Carson’s face has gone seriously pale all of a sudden.

“Luke.” Navy-board-shorts gives a lazy smile.

“Hi Luke.” Chloe gushes.

Okay he was super-attractive, but he wasn’t _that_ attractive.

He begins to walk past them and toward the cabin exit, and looks Beca up and down as he does so.

“Sup.” He winks at her.

Beca was on _fire_ in the love department today! She tries not to burn a brighter shade of red as he mouths call me at her.

“Sup.” She shyly responds, cheeks burning and secretly pleased.

To interrupt their encounter, there’s suddenly the sound of a toilet flushing, and from behind the bush again a blonde woman emerges wearing a bikini. Beca recognises her immediately. Fat Amy's jaw drops only for a moment, before the slack-jaw slowly changes into a beam of amazement.

“Beca Mitchell!”

“Ahhh! Amy.” Beca greets back.

Did that come out as obviously strained as it had felt? Also, eight years and that’s all she could come up with?

Before Chloe’s probably even aware of it happening, Amy rushes towards the tiny girl and crushes her into a hug that’s so intense it actually lifts Beca off the floor. If that were a bullet, Chloe would have totally failed at her job.

“Short-stack! It is you, oh my god! I’ve missed you so much!”

Please tell Beca that Amy had remembered to wash her hands before the hug.

“Amy- crushing- can’t breathe-” Beca jokes (kinda).

She can’t believe she’s actually seeing the other woman again in person! The next time Beca thought she’d see the Australian, she was certain it would be at the girl’s funeral. But here she is! And Beca’s willingly grinning about their living reunion. She’s really missed her, Beca realizes. A lot. Just having the Australian nearby makes her feel like an angsty teen-rebel all over again. Beca’s suddenly prepared to fight a whole army of depressed high-school teachers at once. That was how she had felt for the majority of her four years spent there.

Finally, Amy decides to put her down. Then gives Beca that stupid sentimental look of hers as she roughly rubs Beca’s shoulders. Not a common way to show your affection for someone, kinda weird too, Beca had told her that years ago. She doesn’t say anything however, as the blonde finishes by rubbing her hair.

Amy claps her hands together.

“So, who’s your girlfriend?”

Amy asks, gesturing to Chloe. Chloe looks mortified by the question. Rude.

“Oh, she’s not-”

“Stacie Conrad.” Stacie extends a hand and smiles excitedly. Leaning forward she entirely ignores Beca’s presence. “Cool hot-tub.”

Thank god for the intervention, Beca gives a sigh of relief.

“Thanks! Feel free to get in, we’ve got swimsuits and pool-noodles out back, although... I wouldn’t advise using the li-lo in there.”

Stacie’s eyes widen in awe at the scale of Amy’s ambitions. Tech’s visionary, meet life’s visionary. Beca had a feel the two would get along exceedingly well.

Beca squints. “Noted. So, Amy, how are you?”

The pleasantries are forced, but they always were for Beca and Amy knew that, which was why hanging out with her was always such a relief. Amy was more that happy to carry a conversation; sometimes even both parts. Actually, she’d be excellent at performing a one-woman show.

“You know if we’re going to do this- catching-up thing. I’d rather we did it in the comfort of my soak-time. Also, you should probably explain why you broke through my security, maybe?”

She shoos them in the direction of the back of the office, where Beca notices the bathrooms are. So, the offer of a soak wasn’t an optional one it would seem, at least if they wanted answers to the questions they were seeking. Beca groans.

“Amy, do we have to?”

“If you don’t want to use any of the spare costumes, then just come in in your undies! You’ll have plenty of time to dry off afterward.”

Stacie thwacks her in the side.

“Why are you complaining? Let’s go!”

“Why not? I’m down for it.” Chloe comments, already stripping off her navy officer’s jacket. Her street-casual was a style Beca thoroughly approved of actually. Beca sighs and strides after the two taller girls who are already on quick route to the bathrooms.

“Thaaaat’s the spirit.” Amy encourages, then turns her attention to Carson. “You, should probably go. We’ll have a talk about all _this_ , later.”

This was a mess. Really, Carson’s security work had been embarrassing. Good security was so hard to hire for these days.

\----

Twenty minutes later, the two Bella’s (and Beca) find themselves in the turquoise hot-tub and in the company of their Australian host. Stacie had somehow found herself a red-bikini that fit, and Beca and Chloe had decided instead on taking the underwear route. Though Beca was sort of wishing she had worn a matching set now, because even Chloe’s sports bra and pants matched. They gave some degree of class at least. Her pink lower wear and white bra? Yeah not exactly fashion week’s next big hit. Beca decides to dismiss her negative energy by revelling in the soothing jets, when Amy intervenes.

“Before we continue and catch up, I should probably ask, is that girl of the rooftop opposite us yours? Because you need to tell me in like the next ten seconds or-”

She makes a slitting motion with her thumb. As if that isn’t enough she goes on to mimic tying a noose of all things. Panicked, the brunette looks at the other two Bella’s to see if they’re as surprised as she is. Chloe has on a poker-face, and Stacie’s in some mid-way state of shock between the other two.

“Oh my god, Emily, yes! She’s ours.” Beca gasps, lurching forward.

Amy presses a button on the hot tub intercom.

“Yeah, Benji stand down. Invite the poor girl over and offer her a mimosa or something. I think her name is Emily? Nellie?”

Amy knew full well what name Beca had told her.

“She looks under 21-” a hesitant man’s voice crackles back.

“I didn’t say alcoholic.”

Damn, Chloe would really like a mimosa about now. Alcoholic or no, she’d take either. She wonders if she should bother asking. Fat Amy takes her hand of the intercom. Oh. Too late then.

“Interesting group you run with now Mitchell.” Amy hums.

Chloe turns to watch Beca’s response. Beca’s staring daggers at her, like she’s wishing for her to take point. The ginger’s gonna let her charge handle this. Beca’s presence was probably the only thing that had kept Emily alive this long. Change of tactics, now they were going to tell the woman the whole truth. The Australian was good. Really good. Better than Chloe would have given her credit for. Perhaps it would have been a better idea to have Stacie primed and ready in the van after-all.

“I er- could say the same to you. Head of a gang now. That’s pretty cool.”

Amy grunts passively, as if she’s not at all impressed with the army-of-thugs she’s amassed.

“What’s cool is this bunch of troopers’ you got here.”

She eyes up Chloe for a moment when she says it.

“Where you from, Fanta Orange?”

Was it really necessary to add _orange_ to the end of the jibe? It sorts of undermined the whole joke to make it so explicitly obvious. Besides this had to be the millionth ginger joke she’d heard in her life time. This is why Chloe liked to use the blonde wig occasionally. Chloe keeps herself calm when she answers, and tries to unclench her set jaw.

“Barden, actually. We’re part of a private-security group. The Bella’s.”

Amy’s eyes narrow thoughtfully.

“You’re the bunch of mercs that bought up that warehouse I had my eye on. Keep getting yourselves into trouble with ermmmm- DSM, right?”

Chloe’s impressed with her knowledge. Amy passively scratches her head.

“You know if you could do us all a favour and take those guys out, it’d be a great opportunity for the both of us.”

“We don’t do hits.” Stacie comments.

Amy’s eyes light-up, and she releases a loud laugh.

“Not ever officially, I’m sure!”

Amy sends Chloe a knowing wink, which makes the ginger frown a little.

Beca’s looking extremely uncomfortable in the corner. Chloe watches Amy’s brow knit with some concern. She still cared for the tiny girl, even after all this time. That could come in handy.

“Your line of work’s a risky business.” Amy continues to mumble to herself.

That her and Chloe could agree on. With that, Amy shifts her focus away from the mercenary and back to her old friend.

“You don’t…” Amy shakes her head slowly, knowingly. “-work for them, do you Beca.”

It’s a statement from the Australian, not a question.

“She a client.” Stacie adds.

“And that’s why you’re here? You need something from me.”

Beca squirms.

“I- yeah.”

Amy nods quietly and pretends to pick at the side of the hot-tub, which was a hard thing to make look genuinely thoughtful, considering it was made from solid plastic.

“I need to talk to you about Ben.” Beca continues.

“I always liked your dad, when he gave me Shaun to look after, I couldn’t resist.”

Beca sighs regretfully.

“I’m sorry I’ve been out of touch.”

“That’s okay.”

Amy answers softly. She means it. She understood that they both needed to go their own way for a little while. It was neither of their faults, the two had just been so goal-orientated in their youth that they’d sort of drifted from eachother accidentally. Which suited Amy really. She knew at heart that she was a lone-wolf. A pack only held her back from going where she needed too. Working for another person? Slowly crawling her way up to being top dog? Then getting there and having to look after others? Not really how Amy wanted to spend her time thanks. She was a shining example of leadership material sure, but that didn’t mean she was at all interested in it. That’s why heading a gang was so up her alley, Amy could just shift most the hard work onto her lieutenants (mostly Benji). Beca on the other hand, was an Alpha in her own right that would suit the task of looking after others perfectly. And when they’d left high-school Amy had understood that Beca was in the process of figuring that out for herself. Though the other girl wasn’t quite there yet even now. However, these girls she was travelling with sparked something in Amy’s intuition.

“So, what is it you want from me?”

Beca awkwardly coughs.

“You know, it’s funny you should mention the sheep, because it actually has something to do with that. I sort of need it back?”

Amy’s eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. Beca struggles with how she’s going to explain the next part because it was even weirder than that request. She might as well tell Amy everything. Perhaps if she did, with the muscle of her crew behind her, and with her shady connections, Amy would even be able to help.

This was going too slowly for Chloe’s liking. The would be reminiscing about the good-old-days within the next five minutes or so if she did nothing to stop them. She decides to skip the conversation forward at a rapid pace.

“Dr. Mitchell has been kidnapped.” She says simply.

The immediate change in mood the statement causes is arguably hilarious.

“Wait, WHAT? Ben’s been kidnapped???” Amy cries.

“Yeah.” Beca confirms quietly.

“But who on Earth would want to kidnap your dad of all people!? He’s lovably useless! …No offense.”

“None taken. I thought so too, until pretty recently.”

“Oh, well that’s alright then.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. Could they get back to discussing the topic at hand?

“Beca, the sheep?”

“Damn Mitchell, your girlfriend’s pretty impatient.”

“We’re not dating.” Chloe comments absent-mindedly. Amy ignores her.

“Well damn. I’d give you the sheep immediately now if I could. That’s terrible though, how did this all happen?”

Now describing that takes some serious time, and is a pretty complex affair. Amy listens to Beca’s tale as intently as she can manage. Scowling at Chloe learning of the kidnap, and laughing HARD at her sudden change in role. She nods along about the news of Ben’s important secret project, and gives a thumbs up at Chloe’s choice in auto-mobile. Seems for all her father’s and Amy’s closeness, he’d kept the USB a secret from her as well. It shouldn’t comfort Beca at all to know that’s what he did, but it’s good to know he hadn’t replaced her with Amy as his daughter.

“So, you see that’s why we need the sheep.” Beca finishes.

“And we’d be grateful if you could deliver it to us ASAP.” Stace finishes for her. Yeah that part was pretty important, Beca should Beca have mentioned that explicitly? She thought it came across as pretty obvious.

“I _one-hundred percent_ understand the urgency guys.” Amy nods.

They wait. Amy doesn’t elaborate.

“…And?”

“Well it’s like I said, I would give it to you if I could.”

Chloe shuts her eyes, the first one to catch on to what the girl was saying.

“What do you mean if you could?”

“Err- UHhhh- I sought-of, lost it.”

“WHAT?” Chloe angrily cries.

Beca knew it. She knew retrieving the USB wasn’t going to be that easy if Amy was involved. Damnit dad! _Anyone else_. He could have picked anyone else! Bernard Mitchell could have even picked a total stranger!

“I kind of lost it in a bet-”

“To who exactly?” Chloe huffs, unwilling to let the Aussie finish.

“I don’t really think you need the answer. It’s just a sheep, right? There’s no need to go looking for it, and we can find another USB-”

“Amy please just tell her where it is before she has some kind of heart attack from induced stress.”

Oh my god, Beca’s dad was totally going to die, wasn’t he?

Amy sucks in a nervous breath. Amy could see why Beca had picked Chloe just on appearance alone, but her character left her a lot to be desired. At least, as far as Amy was concerned. Chloe looked about ready to murder her where she stood. A hot temper never made for great romantic material. Beca always was a useless bisexual. Amy hums reluctantly. Did she really want a stand-off with a fellow trained mercenary today? If this was jello-wrestling she was sure she’d have a shot at winning, but fighting in a hot-tub was foreign turf to her, and Chloe looked like she’d done this at least once before. She should add hot-tub fighting, to her training schedule.

“They have it over at EVERMOIST.” Amy winces.

“Evermoist?” Emily innocently asks.

The all turn to look at the innocent 19-year-old, who’d entered the room ever so quietly. She’s holding the famed virgin cocktail in her hand and Beca’s kind of jealous of the tiny pink umbrella and swirly straw that’s sticking out of it.

Thankfully, the girl had entered before Chloe had decided to leap across the water and punch Amy directly in the face. Chloe always tried to act a wincey bit more responsibly whenever the younger girl was around.

Emily looks largely unfazed by the fact that they’re all semi-naked and in a hot-tub, which is kind of impressive to Beca. The girl was really fastly taking to this mercenary thing.

“ _EVERMOIST_. It’s a club downtown. Owned by a drug king-pin.” Chloe sighs.

“Or more accurately, a queen-pin.” Amy mumbles.

“That just made things a lot harder.”

“Yeah, and it’s like VIP only, so no way are you lot getting in.” Stacie snorts.

Amy raises a hand.

“She’s right, I’m a key-player around here and I barely made it on myself.”

The Bella’s seemed shocked by the news but honestly? Beca would’ve expected nothing else. Of course, Amy was on the list. The woman had connections to Cate ‘effin Blanchett.

“Can you get us in?” Beca keenly asks. Amy sucks in a baited breath.

“You must really want that sheep huh?”

“She can’t sleep without it.”

Chloe deadpans, already clambering out of the hot-tub. Where was the relaxed Chloe of this morning? Beca missed her. Work-ginger was such a bore.

Amy waits until the mercenary is out of ear-shot.

“Can’t sleep without it eh? _Beca and Miz. Thang_.” Amy wiggles her brows.

“We’re not dating.” Beca restates, clambering out the tub after her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya y'all!
> 
> Firstly, I'm really enjoying my increasingly obscure chapter names. Secondly, it's gonna be the last chapter for a while, because ya gal's got a dissertation to start on. As usual, please feel free to leave a comment, a kudos, or a bookmark! I'd LOVE it :D Thanks for reading still, ilysm, and dw, it WILL be finished!
> 
> Britishgal  
> oxoxo


	11. 'Caffiene' Cravings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not a Coffee Shop AU.

#  'Caffeine' Cravings

###  Chapter 11

They trail back to the Bella base, simultaneously satisfied and not. Each Bella developing a unique take on their unusual, and highly surprizing day.

Now that Chloe had calmed down a little, she for the most part viewed their mission as a cracking success. Reflecting on what they were actually asked to do, Shaun was really the secondary objective, and Amy the first. And even though they hadn’t retrieved the sheep, or had yet to see him in person, they at least knew where he was. That meant there was still a chance of getting to it before anything awful befell their _paying_ client. She hoped the owners of EVERMOIST hadn’t done anything even more thoughtless with the toy. Although, she was honestly starting to question how much more nonsensical this venture could get? EVERMOIST had to have the damn sheep or Chloe was going to lose her fucking mind. Amy fucking Hobart. Of all the friend’s she expected Mitchell to possess, none in her mind came across even vaguely like that. Chloe expected Beca’s childhood friends to frankly consist of now-stoners, depressives, and a few minorly-successful musicians. She respected the Australian in regards to her business capabilities as stated, but losing a goddamn toy sheep in a monthly round of illegal poker with Barden’s shadiest (which included the _mayor_ apparently???), was the stupidest explanation Chloe had come across in her entire career. So _so_ stupid in fact, that the ginger had no trouble believing it. In fact, when the blonde had admitted it, she was focused on watching Beca’s reaction to find the truth. She could read Beca infinitely better than she could the Australian, Beca having no poker-face and knowing Amy better than anyone, it was a good system to develop.

The primary dissatisfaction with the mission, if you were to ask Beca, was with getting back into that hell-van, with its temperatures now reaching those of personal preference to SATAN. Beca was more of an artic bitch. Cold weather? The dream. Snow-storms? Amazing. Though both had nothing on the epicness and big-dick-energy exuded by thunderstorms. Those were the ultimate force of nature, and anyone who exclaimed otherwise could frankly choke.

Turns out though, the ride home isn’t the worst part, because then they have to de-brief, which is never fun for anyone involved, yet alone for the person running it. Aubrey can’t quite believe what she’s hearing, but tries to take their successes and failures with as much grace as she can muster. Her tempered emotions are a thing she’s sure would have even made her dad smile with approval. _Finally_.

“So, what you’re saying is… you need to go, to a _second_ club.”

“Exactly.”

Good god, the professionality of her institution was rapidly beginning to fall apart. Aubrey sighs.

“And where does Fat Amy fall into all of this?” Aubrey questions further.

“We kind of need her to get us inside.”

“We’re the plus-ones.”

There was a problem with that, plus one hinted a there being a _singular_ agent. Not multiple.

“Don’t worry, we have a plan for that too.”

Beca reassures her. Well, _Amy_ had told them she could get it covered, and Beca was praying in response to anyone who was listening that Amy was more dependable now than she had been in the past. The responsibilities of her current role hinted at the fact that she was indeed, but Beca and Chloe had yet to witness the true power of this ‘new’ Amy. Beca really _really_ needed to Australian to come through for her now. _Just once,_ then she could finally forgive the girl for sometimes stealing the lunch money from her purse when they were in middle-school _._ That would be her silent thanks.

Aubrey drags one long and stressed hand down the front of her face. A half-baked plan, for a half-baked mission. It sounded about right considering the state of everything else that was going on. Not that Aubrey would ever admit it aloud, but the minutiae of this plan were so much more important than she’d admit. It wasn’t just about their money and their contract anymore. A man’s life was on the line. Beca’s dad, the same man who wanted her to keep his daughter safe. Was Aubrey making the right decision by letting Beca go on this? She’d be safest with Chloe, that much was certain. They also had no other field-agents that could take the job in their stead, Jessica and Ashley were still deep-undercover in Europe. Besides, like Chloe would ever let herself be replaced. The ginger would probably just do something stupid like go to the club anyway if she suspended her. Aubrey has strong suspicions Mitchell would act in a similar manner if she tried to bench her too. The two women were more like each-other than they realized. The blonde wasn’t sure if that were more amusing or frustrating. 

“Fine. Consider your proposal signed-off on.”

“Thank you, Commander.” Chloe answers. It’s a little too cheerful for Aubrey to not be at all concerned.

“You’re welcome.” Aubrey mumbles. “And Chloe, Cynthia has something exciting for you down in the basement. After-all, if you two are going to pretend to be VIP’s tonight, then you’re going to have to act the part.”

Wait, did that mean what Beca thought it meant? Were they getting a new car?! She begins to feel a smile form and widen on her face.

“Sayonara hell-van!” Beca murmurs.

Chloe smirks, her thoughts exactly.

Aubrey raises a disinterested brow, apparently having heard Beca’s quiet words.

“You better hope our mechanic’s done before you get too excited Mitchell. I gave her a tough job and not a lot of time...”

Chloe laughs. That sweet, musical, genuine one again, damn. Beca’s finding it increasingly …alluring- _alarming!_ She meant alarming. Because it was so out of character, for the mercenary. Or was it? Shit Beca was finding out the ginger’s personality ran deeper than she imagined.

“CR is the world’s greatest mechanic, Aubs. I’m sure she’s got this.” Chloe nonchalantly waves an arm in the air.

Flo hums loudly enough to grab the whole room’s attention.

“Well look at you, not a storm cloud above your head for once because the boss got you a _present_.” She teases.

Stacie releases a bark of laughter. Emily’s quick to follow.

“She’s got you there.”

Chloe returns an uncaring shrug. It was pretty hard to not be excited by the prospect of a new car, she would expect the premise would appeal even to the unlicensed. Chloe just hoped it was fast. It was even more enticing if the vehicle held more power than 180 horses. But it was a hard thing to guess about. This was CR, it could be anything down there waiting for her really, an armoured car, a four-by-four, a motorcycle etc. Ugh, Aubrey had to hurry up and release them from this mandatory hell before she got too restless and had to excuse them on account of Beca’s fake-dialarhoea. Her smile widens at the idea of the brunette facing early-morning humiliation.  Glorious.

“Okay, now that we’re doing screwing around, let’s put the finalities into place. Chloe, I want you and Beca at Amy’s at 9pm sharp, dressed and ready to go.”

“Where am I going to get clothes for Beca?”

Aubrey had to agree, there was no way in hell the wanna-DJ was turning up to at VIP access club looking like… that. Although Chloe’s short denim jacket was a nice accessory today. Aubrey shrugs.

“Figure something out. Your wardrobe, Stacie’s, Emily’s, I don’t know. Rifle through them all, and find something. If you’re feeling generous even take her shopping. We can just add it to her dad’s payment later on.”

“I’m right here y’know!” Beca cuts in a tad irritated.

“Right, yeah.” Aubrey dismissively continues. “Stacie, Flo, you’re not in on this one. I haven’t heard from Jessica and Ashley in five days, and I need you to find out where they are, and what they’re doing.”

“They’re not answering their phones, or on the internet.”

“Check in with the last hotel they were at, see what you can find. From there use satellites, CCTV, whatever you have too.”

“Yes boss.” The two answer in perfect unison.

“Emily, follow Chloe down to the garage and see if there’s anything you can help Cynthia-Rose with, and if not report back to me, I’ll find you something.”

“Okay.”

And Lilly would just do her regular thing in the lab. Aubrey should probably do a check around there too, see what R & D had in the works and cooking. She gives their mute a small nod, and Lilly gives a weak one back in mutual understanding. That was most of Commander Posen’s busy day planned.

“Excellent.” That was everybody. “You’re all dismissed. Stacie, stay behind please, I need to talk to you.”

 _Oh those words never hinted at anything good._ Stacie squirms in her chair uncomfortably as the rest of her friends pile out the room and leave. But Flo especially, is the one that looks the most worried for her. She also looks like she wants an explanation, which is hard to silently give considering the _many_ reasons Posen could have for calling her here. Stacie was a low-key rebel, and there were 13 minor-infractions of Bella code that Aubrey didn’t know about that Stacie had committed. 10 of them were long-term infractions as still going, and Stace would say… maybe four of those were worth actual disciplinary action? But there was no way Aubrey could have found out about any of them. Stacie was super careful with it all….

“Stacie- if you **_ever_** deliberately cut me off from my best-friend in the field again? You’re fired.”

Aubrey’s voice is distinctly venomous. Stacie’s fairly certain she’s never heard her boss sound so angry, despite all her hardships. Stacie opens her mouth to protest, but Aubrey shakes her head, effectively cutting her off. Stacie remains calm none-the-less.

“No. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Boss-”

Now would be a good time to tell her boss about channel 10.

“ _Dismissed_.” Aubrey snaps, and Stacie sighs, turning dejectedly to leave. The shit she went through for Chloe Beale, when her and Aubrey were arguably just as close, was unfair to the blonde. She’d let her boss and friend down, and it didn’t feel so great. If the time came where she actually _was_ fired, she was counting on the ginger to plead her case with all her might. Nah, Aubrey would never fire her, the threat was and empty one bought about by stress. Never-the-less, Stacie would wait until Aubrey had calmed down before she admitted the truth. Stacie would never leave Chloe undefended, and was wounded to think the blonde genuinely thought that she would.

Aubrey knew about channel 10, and she’d known about Conrad and Beale’s con of ‘forgetting’ to turn the mike on for months now. She had let it all go until today. But in a way, part of her was glad she’d finally put a stop to it, it lowered the tension of every muscle-thread in her body to know the manoeuvre was finished. It kept her Bella’s tight knit to have a few ‘secrets’ from her. They needed loyalty to eachother, as well as to their job, to make them stronger. If they trusted eachother, the more likely they were to not _die,_ and that’s why Aubrey allowed a couple of anonymities through her radar. Aubrey had been on death’s icy precipice, she’d stared directly into that black abyss below that seemed to have no bottom. It was not a place she wished her sisters to visit so soon. Perhaps though, there were many underworlds, and not all her friends were destined for the same hellscape to which she was bound. Aubrey hoped with all her soul that remained, that were vehemently true. ----

Beca was looking forward to finally seeing CR’s digs, considering her last tour had conveniently skipped the garage. When the elevator pings open it’s not at all what she’s been expecting. The garage extends the length of the warehouse. Both its ground and first floors, which explains their long haul up to Bella base every morning. Beca realizes that most those doors to the offices she walks past are likely fake. That was either clever camouflage or lazy renovation, and she strongly suspects these girls of being as likely capable of both.

“CR!” Beca calls out cheerfully.

The woman’s busily altering the undercarriage of a familiar looking sports car, that’s now raised up high on a mechanic’s bed. Upon hearing her name called however, she lowers her arm and with it the wrench she’s wielding. Cynthia drops it with a clang to the floor when she spots who it is.

Beca supposes it doesn’t really matter how tools like that were treated. They were solid steel after all, and not a lot she knew could damage that.

“Beca! My favourite girl in the music business, what’s going on?”

Well second favourite, her primary favourite was Rihanna, but considering CR didn’t know the flawless woman in person Beca Mitchell would have to do. Cynthia-Rose laughs and greets her with a handshake.

“What’s up Chloe?”

The ginger gets a hug that she doesn’t return, but that doesn’t stop CR from giving it. One day Chloe Beale would hug her back, and CR was going to be ready for it.

Chloe waits to be released until she carries on with their conversation.

“Good to see you to Cee. Is that my car up there?”

“Yeah it is!” She laughs. “Just checking the bottom here and making sure everything’s tight. Wouldn’t wanna miss any stray _bullet-holes_ for you.”

She turns to face Beca with some degree of wonder.

“There was also more foliage in there than in the entirety of Yellowstone. Wanna tell me about that?”

Beca’s mouth opens and then closes in some degree of ineptness.

“That’s a long story.”

“I’ll bet.”

“You’ve changed the colour.” Chloe interrupts their conversation, eager to get back on track.

“Well if you’re going to get your cars ‘second-hand’ now Beale, I thought it would be better to mark them as clearly yours.”

She meant that if Chloe was going to steal other people’s cars, the least she could do was get them repainted to lessen the chances of the police (or DSM) noticing. Poor Pieter, his old car completely ruined. CR had re-done so much of the body work, that the machine was practically new again. On the _outside_ anyway.

Chloe had to admit… she liked the silver. It added a bit of class to the ’70 chevelle that the scarlet red had been lacking. Chloe takes the stairs leading up to the bed two by two until she’s level finally with her baby, eager to check-out the inside. She beams when she notices the black highlights on the bonnet.

 _“Oh, you gem!”_ Chloe beams.

CR nods and smiles. Like she’d be the one to deny Chloe Beale her racing stripes.

“Now listen up. If you wreck this car, dent her, even scratch her in the next six months, I’ve ordered Stacie to transfer her ownership certificate to me. Then she becomes _my_ baby and you never touch her ever again.”

(It’s what the car probably wanted.)

“Oh, not cool dude!” Chloe laments.

“But _fair_.” CR responds.

Yeah… she was right. Chloe had trashed more than her fair share of CR’s work in the past. Good thing their mission tonight was classified as low-risk. A simple example of breaking and entering. Chloe was a pro at that. Well, she didn’t usually have a side-kick with her, or a Fat Amy, but Chloe was sure the two together would provide a great distraction.

“Cee… I have one more question before we leave.”

“Sure, hit me with it.”

She thought she was seeing through the glass correctly anyhow.

“Why are the back seats still torn up?”

“You tell me.”

“Couldn’t you replace them?” Chloe moans.

“I _am_ , but parts aren’t going to arrive for another two weeks.” CR crosses her arms. “You’re lucky the warehouse down the street does replacement windows, or it could’ve been a lot worse.

“We might have had to take a car that _Amy_ drives.” Beca quietly gasps.

Shit, the brunette was right. That could’ve been potentially catastrophic.

“At least I got Beca’s hand-blood out the leather.”

“Thanks for that, Cee.” Chloe finishes bashfully. She didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. Anyway, she should be ready to come down in a couple of hours. Until then, why don’t you go sort Beca’s outfit out? I heard she has nothing to wear tonight.”

How did _everyone_ know that? Beca grumbles internally. She makes to follow the ginger, who’s already powerwalking past her and back to the elevator. A word that they were leaving would have been nice.

“Wait, Chloe!” CR calls out desperately, and both girls quickly round on their heels, expecting something urgent.

“Yes?”

“Bring me a coffee?”

Chloe sighs.

“Please? I’ve been working for like 18 hours on this? For _you!_ ”

“…Fine.”

“Love you!”

“…Love you too.” Chloe mumbles back, which Beca thinks is kinda sweet of her.

The ginger doesn’t speak again until they exit the elevator and are back on the second floor. And then she’s back to being her cold and callous self.

“Beca, get Cynthia-Rose a black coffee.”

\----

Okay, so- Beca _did_ get CR that black coffee in the end. But _not_ because Chloe Beale asked her too. It was because she was perhaps the fondest of the Bella mechanic out of all of the girls. CR had a great taste in music that the brunette shared with her, and was the only one who didn’t give Beca a vibe that exuded any threatening qualities. Emily didn’t give any off exactly, but damn was Beca afraid of her after seeing the size of that gun-case.

CR takes a sip from her mug.

“So, you and ginger huh?” CR gives her a knowing look.

“What?”

“You getting along with your bodyguard?”

Oh god, not another one who thought the two would make an unbearably cute couple!

“I mean, is that even possible? With someone like Chloe? She’s so cold most the time, she only seems to be warm around _you_ guys.”

CR scoffs.

“She hasn’t been warm around us in _months_. If I asked her to go grab me a coffee before you came along, she wouldn’t have bothered at all.”

“She didn’t grab you a coffee, _I_ did.” Beca counters.

“True. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s the least selfish she’s acted in a while, however.”

Which meant the ginger was stable enough to actually be thinking of other people again, which was a great sign! In CR’s experience it was a rare thing for Chloe to ever be out-of-her-head. She didn’t mean that in a manner that implied the girl was ever on drugs or whatever, just in the sense that more often than not, Chloe was trapped alone with her thoughts. And as far as CR knew, she had no-one that she let herself confide in anymore. It did used to be Aubrey and Stacie, but from what the IT tech had moped to her about, that had been in rapid decline recently. Chloe was increasingly less and less responsive to the requests of any of them; to the point where her behaviour was bordering on self-destructive.

“It’s still pretty self-centred.” Beca interrupts her.

“Baby-steps young Mitchell, it’s progress in the right direction at least.” CR offers back.

“Okay, but being in a romantic relationship with someone like that wouldn’t work for me.”

Cynthia-Rose Adams practically does a spit-take. Both her feet slam into the break-pedals of this conversation. **_H-o-L-D ON!_**

_“RoMANtically?”_

Shit.

“Hmn?” Beca innocently responds. Her mind clicking into place, the brunette realizing what a huge mistake she had just made. _Shhhhhhit! She’d fucked up, she’d fucked up, she’d fucked up._

“I wasn’t talking about you two romantically…” CR continues.

Ohhhhh fuck. CR looks absolutely incredulous. Beca feels like she’s suddenly free-falling from the top of a sky-scraper without a parachute. That is to say, her body has now entered panic-mode and she’s now very much sure she wants to live. She’s thoroughly regretting her decision to come down here.

“Damn, okay.” CR blinks.

“I wasn’t talking about romance either!” Beca blurts back. “I would never like Chloe like that, nope. The idea’s absurd, it was a total joke!”

Beca gives a clearly forced laugh. This girl was not the greatest at lying. CR has to stop herself from lightly shaking her head in disappointment. But the girl having a crush on their mercenary could be interesting. Chloe hadn’t been on a date, or been in a romantic relationship in forever. Not since Chicago Whelp, and that was back in her military days…

“Okay. Alright, I’ll keep your secret quiet.” Cynthia winks, grinning. “Ain’t gotta worry about a thing, one woman-lover to another.”

A lesbian-to-bisexual pact, A.K.A a sapphic promise. A small smile begins to play at CR’s lips, and suddenly, she has an amazing idea. An incredible idea in fact.

“Where’s Chloe right now?” She innocently asks.

Beca sighs.

“Back in her apartment. She mentioned something about finding me an outfit that actually fits me.”

_For the last time, 5”2 was NOT that tiny!_

CR purses her lips. Perfect, yeah, YEAH.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?” Beca warily asks her. CR’s eyes just light up with mischief.

“I’m gonna need you to wait here for me Beca, okay?”

“What-”

“Gimme 20 minutes, I just need to get to my apartment and back really quick. Don’t- _don’t_ move!”

“What?” Beca repeats, still just as lost as she was.

“Just… read my Playboy or National Geographic’s or something, they’re on my desk. Also, here take my coffee-”

The black woman shoves her half empty drink into Beca’s stunned hands.

“Wait what?”

“Just trust me!”

She’s barely known the mechanic two days, that seemed like a pretty tough ask.

CR’s already behind the wheel of a burly 4 x 4 before Beca manages to rearticulate herself in a way that will get her the damn answer she wants. As CR starts the machine’s powerful engine and hastily rolls out the garage, Beca’s left clouded in CO2, coughing and spluttering her average-sized heart out. Because to reiterate: **_5”2 was NOT small_**.

\----

When Chloe hears her front door slam, she sighs with relief. It seems her charge had returned from her assigned coffee delivery unscathed. She does feel a little bit bad about the demand, but also knows that if Beca hadn’t wanted to do it, then she wouldn’t have. Actually, why had she _not?_ Normally the tiny brunette was up for fighting her every command. Perhaps the removal of her dad had quelled her flame a little, how tragic. She hears the soft padding of feet dragging up her hallway, and without turning from her spot, gives the brunette her next task.

“Good. Now that you’re here you can help me narrow down your dressing options, and I can get back to me.” _The more important VIP_ , Chloe thinks.

“Actually, CR went back to hers and found me a dress I like that one of her exes left.”

She hears the DJ say from behind her. So that’s why the smaller girl had taken so long. Great, then all that hard work that Chloe had been doing for the last half an hour had been for nought. She sighs and gets up off her knees, feeling them crack under the pressure change. Oh, to be a woman.

“Okay. Then… head into my bathroom and try them all on, I guess?  I’ll start working on me.”

That task should be a lot easier that trying to guess Beca’s waist size without the other girl being present.

“And hello to you too grumpy-guts.” Chloe hears bitterly murmured over her shoulder.  Chloe rolls her eyes, and gets back to her selection for the evening. Now then, cherry red or sailor navy? Strapless or v-line…

Beca sighs to herself as she enters the bathroom, and frustratedly bites her lip. The ginger hadn’t even turned around to acknowledge her. Why did being breezed-off hurt now? It had never hurt her before, only mildly annoyed her. God, this was all Fat Amy’s doing! Putting the idea of liking Chloe _like that_ into her head. There was no _way_ she could like this woman romantically. Chloe was, so- so _RUDE_ , and obnoxious, (and hot), and intelligent. The woman loved fine art, and even more up Beca’s alley, on the way in she’d seen her vinyl player in the lounge. Oh no, Beca was in too deep already! Why did they have to have that stupid, deep talk at the club? She dares only groan just loud enough that Chloe can’t hear. Chloe also physically wrecked a a dude’s arm just for hitting on her. The memory of that alone was… Beca swallows. More attractive to her that it should have been. Fuck her life, Beca really _was_ crushing on her kidnapper-turned-bodyguard. And she’d told Cynthia-Rose. Accidentally mind you, but still!

The panic over her emerging and disturbing feelings is enough to put Beca on auto-pilot. She’s not really aware of undressing then redressing into CR’s silver dress until she’s standing there bare-footed and clothed again. Luckily, CR also had in her possession, silver heels in Beca’s size. Turns out in the shoe department the two women were the same, which was pretty useful. With the V-line cut down her neck, Beca sort of wishes she had some bling to complete her look, but… beggars can’t be choosers. Also, Chloe really needed a floor length mirror in here, because now Beca had to go back out there to see how she looked, which meant confronting Chloe.

“Okay. I’m coming out! Tell me what you think.”

Or preferably don’t, Beca thinks. She shuffles out of the tiled room, back onto beige carpet, slowly but surely getting used to the height of the damn shoes. When she finally looks up from the floor and up at Chloe, she has to stop her jaw from hitting the floor.

“ _Wow_.” Beca exclaims.

It’s completely involuntary, trust her. Yep, she totally has complete control over this crush, keeping it a secret and getting over it should be no issue! When she’d been getting ready, clearly the ginger been had too, though, she wasn’t quite as ready as Beca was. Back still turned to her, the older woman’s only now just zipping up the back of her own outfit. Chloe’s in a short length dress, red and lacey around the shoulders and mid-riff and Beca cannot stop staring. With her matching gold earrings and necklace, it looks like she’s come straight from Aphrodite’s palace. Even with her hair not done, Chloe looks _incredible_. Wow was an understatement.

“Wow yourself.” Chloe chips back as coolly as she can, slowly coming back to her senses.

Turning to see Beca, that was _not_ what she had been expecting. Cynthia-Rose had done seriously well. Chloe had nearly undergone cardiac arrest she was so shocked at the woman’s transformation. This outfit was way better than anything Chloe could have ever offered Beca. She realizes there might be actual drool about to come out the side of her slack mouth, so Chloe’s quick to shut it, praying quickly that Beca hadn’t noticed her ogling. The thick thread of Beca’s dress was clearly synthetic, and its metallic sparkle shone with other colours in a way that made it look like it was threaded with crystals. And those heels god, Beca had _great_ legs! _…And Chloe was checking out her client, yikes._ Stupid Amy, and putting those suggestions in her head about her and Beca. There was no way the ginger could have feelings for the younger woman. Chloe Beale didn’t date. It never went well. Besides, that brief train of thought had been highly unprofessional.

“So, um-”

“Yeah, so-”

“We should probably get ready for work again. At least, for now.”

“-Because staying in this for five hours would be weird.”

The two awkwardly laugh at the poor joke, both to unnerved by their respective thirst to make further conversation.

“You do, look um, great though.” Chloe murmurs one more time. She can’t help herself, holy shit. She hadn’t let herself act like a dork in forever. “-And I have like make-up and things for you to use, if you want. Not that you need it, we’re probably different skin tones as well-”

“ _Chloe_.” Beca stops her mid-ramble. A sheepish smile dotted endearingly across her face. And Chloe Beale had just looked like a total idiot, then hadn’t she?

“Thank you.” Beca finishes.

“Yeah.” Chloe nods curtly, making a b-line for her kitchen, still in her red dress, and mind racing faster than she can understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to kudos, comment, or bookmark if you too, are thirsty for Chloe Beale. (Or just good coffee.) 
> 
> Anyway, I managed my work somehow alongside my writing? Hope you like it, the slow burn is starting FINALLY!
> 
> Britishgal  
> oxoxo


	12. The Quamire Club (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quagmire: Used in this context, to refer to the feeling of being trapped in a rather sticky situation. See: Stuck-in-the-Mud (Game) for further reference.

#  The Quagmire Club 

#  (Part 1)

###  Chapter 12

“We all ready for this?”

Beca staunchly nods.

“Just give the word and we’ll go.” Beca confirms. But when she casually turns to face her bodyguard, the DJ curiously finds the ginger already staring her way. Chloe’s blue eyes alight with what seems to Beca like a new and quiet admiration. There’s some mild surprise mixed in there too, but before Beca can call her out on it, the two are interrupted.

“Excuse me!”

The two swivel in their front seats impatiently; not used to a third person interrupting their banter.

“Um surely, _I_ should give the word?”

Chloe’s loath to admit it, but Fat Amy has a point.

“You two are playing the role of assistant, and bodyguard, to _me_. And why are there bullet-holes in this ride? You should consider yourselves lucky this place doesn’t have a valet!”

Chloe feels the Australian kick the back of her seat in annoyance, and has to resist the urge to grind her teeth together. It was bad enough she had to play bodyguard to Beca, but now she had to fake the role for her best-friend as well? God, would the universe quit trying to make her act honourably? Also, she was grateful for Amy for getting into character, but if she was going to be a bitch the whole night, Chloe was going to kill her. Which… Beca wouldn’t be mad at her for too long if she did, right?

“Yeah what’s up with that? I thought you said this place was classy?” Beca complains.

Amy has to burst out with laughter.

“I said it was exclusive, and it is. Look at that queue!”

It’s pretty hard to see past Beca in the tiny car, but sure enough across the street Chloe spots the small figures of some disastrously dressed clientele. They look miserable, huddled together on the side-walk. Chloe doesn’t blame them; neon bodycon’s offered very little in protection against the elements, rain or shine. The line actually extended past where Chloe could physically view, her car’s metal frame eventually blocking its spine entirely. Those poor people at the back, had a long night ahead of them. Chloe sighs. They were running half an hour behind schedule, and that was putting her on edge. As bodyguard, Chloe wore a ‘fake’ earpiece that wired her through to the Bella’s. Or if anyone were to ask, Fat Amy’s security team. That meant Chloe got the joy of talking to her pissed-off boss through the evening. Aubrey’s insisted she wear it, though Chloe had bargained with her that she only needed to turn it on inside the club. Maintaining her role of bodyguard also went far in explaining her surprising skill-set. If an intern were to roundhouse an innocent bystander for example, people would ask questions. But if Chloe were to flip say, an intoxicated, handsy patron in the bathroom masquerading as a bodyguard - then her story made much more sense.

Suddenly, Chloe can hear the sound of the back-door opening, and realizes that Amy has gotten out without telling them. The Australian was reaaaaally milking this whole ‘fake-boss’ thing. Thank god Chloe had joined the army upon leaving home, and not ended up in a street gang under this girl’s tutelage. She doesn’t stop to question that that would be unlikely to happen, considering her humble Oregon origins. Life could take you anywhere, anytime, anyhow. It had taken her to Barden eventually hadn’t it? And it easily could have done earlier. Anyway, Chloe’s fairly certain if she’d become a banger, she’d be the leader in this one’s coup. That idea wasn’t appealing. Chloe had an extensive bucket-list that she was making good headway on, and leading a revolution wasn’t one of her life-long ambitions. Never-the-less, she’s quick to follow Amy, and likewise leaves Beca in the dark. Chloe tries to ignore the soft drizzle of rainwater that tickles her exposed face as she emerges. Though it feels decidedly uncomfortable on her exposed shoulders. Could they hurry it up and get into the club already? It was miserable out here. Instead of speaking, the ginger slams her door to give sound to her irritancy. Amy’s half-way across the deserted road already when she decides to look back.

“Well hurry it up then!” The Australian cries out.

Would it be inappropriate to wish for the sudden appearance of a speeding-semi? Chloe exhales and keeps her trap shut as she waits for Beca to get-out. The mercenary then focuses on the car with some level of reluctance. She wasn’t keen to depart from her revamped child, and if anything happened to her in her absence, Chloe would be seriously upset. She gives its rooftop a gentle caress, leaving her invisible mark as a small blessing of safety, before she jogs over the street to her new ally’s side. The pit of her stomach feeling oddly unsettled by her departure.

Across the street, the girls find themselves with the help of Amy’s VIP ticket, in the front of the queue. Entry should have been easy as pie, but Amy being AMY had already found them in conflict with the bouncer. Clearly, having only two VIP tickets was causing them some issues. Mentally Chloe was already working on figuring out alternative points of entry, or lies she could tell. They’d fully planned on bluffing their way in, but the crew hadn’t accounted for the club hiring a literal giant to protect the house. Chloe could probably still physically take him, but in public that did not seem like a good idea.

“Psh. We both know that bodyguards don’t count as plus one material. I mean, they barely count as human-beings most of the time.”

Yep. Yeah. One of these days Chloe was going to punch Amy out. That much was certain. It seemed to Chloe to be firmly written in the stars. Possibly tonight, possibly tomorrow, only the fates knew precisely when. It had to be soon though, because the ginger could honestly snap at any time.

“What am I saying? You should know dude, you’re a bouncer.”

Amy then has the nerve to slap the man spiritedly on the chest. Beca feels absolutely mortified. Chloe just smirks internally. Good thing her job was to act silent and stoic tonight, both traits blissfully within her zone of comfort. Y’know, the bodyguard actually reminds Chloe of someone…

“You’re the bodyguard?”

John Cena’s aged brother looks _Beca_ aggressively up and down. Chloe raises her eyebrows in mild offence.

“Yes. I, the tiny and puny one of us both, is the bodyguard. This literal goddess standing next to me, with biceps as large as my face, is the one with the useless BA in Music. _She’s_ who Amy hired as an assistant.”

Chloe frowns to herself. Interesting and unnecessary self-drag. Also… Beca had noticed her biceps? She does an involuntary tense. They _were_ pretty sick.

Beca strides forward, so she’s in front of Amy now, and effectively takes charge of the situation. Chloe and Amy watch on with a degree of fascination, eager to see where it is she’ll go. Beca releases an irritated huff.

“God, I should have just done a business degree, and then maybe I wouldn’t be here, working for my ultra-successful best friend.”

Beca dramatically complains. Then, she feigns putting a stressed hand to her forehead, hoping to god that her acting is believable enough that the bodyguard won’t see right through her.

“Listen, you seem like a nice guy, and I apologize for any offence Amy may have caused. What’s your name?”

“Nigel, and thank you.” He finishes warily. Beca can’t blame him.

“No problem. And not to offend you more- But as a bouncer, you can’t get paid all that well, am I correct?”

Tall, beefy, and like-Bane-from-Batman, folds his arms unamused. Chloe prays that Beca knows where she’s going with this, because she’s fairly certain that _did_ in fact, offend him some more.

“Not that it’s any of your business… but I could be paid better. Why?”

“I see you’ve got a forces tattoo.”

He gives Beca a curt nod.

“I’m an ex-ranger. Why?”

“Amy needs a new head of security. Chloe here is just a temporary contractor, and needs to get back to her real work soon.”

He’s not really buying what she’s selling. She’s not surprised, after-all, Amy’s first impressions weren’t exactly friendly. …Beca needed to try harder.

“Also, Amy can pay you triple what whomever owns this joint can.” She mumbles as fast as she can.

“TRIPLE?!?” Amy gasps. “WHAT! Beca, I-”

“ _Respectfully_ Amy, I’ve been looking for a suitable replacement for months.”

Beca grins as falsely and as hugely as she can imagine. Eyebrows raising, as well as eyeballs widening, Chloe realizes the play of a con before Amy. She tries to help out.

“The pay, and benefits, in service to Ms. Hobart are truly exceptional.” Chloe chips in.

The body guard turns his attention then, to Chloe. She’s debating whether or not to show him her own Ranger tattoo on her shoulder, but decides ultimately against it. It was a private symbol. Not one she got for pride, like his ultimately seemed to be, but hers was to remember her fallen friends. There was a reason her and Aubrey had decided to set-up shop in Georgia. Barden and the state had become her home in another way, like she’d mentioned. Besides this man was a decade older than she was and she’d never seen him before. She owed him nothing. It was sad to see, that even army comradery couldn’t bring down the walls of self-defence Chloe had built-up around her.

“Bonuses?” The guard gruffly asks.

“On the end of Hanukah.”

“Medical?”

Chloe gives an indifferent shrug.

“An acceptable dental plan.”

The bouncer looks Amy thoughtfully up and down, like he may be considering it.

“Also, she’s usually less of a bitch than this.” Chloe adds.

“Yeah, and I don’t fire my employees for being so blatantly rude to me, apparently.”

Amy’s finally caught on, it would seem. Nigel hums to himself.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Great. I promise you won’t regret it.” Beca’s back into leading their conversation. “You don’t happen to have some paper, do you?”

Nigel cocks the side of his head.

“I thought you were an assistant?”

Amy sighs.

“Not a very good one. But I like to keep her on as a favour to her dad.”

Beca decides to let the slight go. After-all, this acting was all in good-jest and fake right?

“That’s okay, I’ll just… write my number on your hand. It’s no Biggy.”

At least Beca had remembered to bring a biro for her deep-cover role.

“There, it’s all done! Now can we… enter the club?” Beca sweetly requests. Chloe has to stop herself from giving an eye-roll.

“…Sure.” Nigel answers dazed.

Not that he would admit it to these very strange women, but the Bouncer would also have accepted a fifty-dollar bill from each in exchange for free-entry. He would have offered them the deal earlier, but was glad he didn’t. It seemed a shady thing to admit to a potential future employer. Maybe he’d reserve that trick for later on this evening. He lets the girls wonder past him without much of a second thought. The bickering lot of them seemed harmless enough.

\-----

Finally on the inside, Beca and Chloe wait for Fat Amy to return to the bar. They wait at its far-end with the limitless stacks of grubby glasses, hoping to avoid the bartender’s attention. The Australian had left them and made her way to the coat-check, to meet up with her inside-man. He was the one who had done perhaps the most dangerous job for them, and had stolen a key-card to the upper floor office. It was up to them however to make it there unnoticed. Chloe was still figuring out how they were going to manage that.

The interior of EVERMOIST reveals a proudly depraved establishment. The dwelling is overflowing with clear acts of debauchery and alcohol-fuelled misconduct, and no one seems to be doing anything to stop it. The bartenders and waitstaff deliberately choose to look away from anything heinous they’re seeing. Chloe’s already clocked a drug deal over the counter and it’s only been 10 minutes or so. There was no way they weren’t paying a hefty dole to someone seriously powerful in order to be so careless. Clearly, the owners viewed this chaos not as a problem, but as an attraction. She wasn’t even that kind of criminal but Chloe had to admit, that reality held some appeal to her as a consumer. Indeed, if she was in the business of advertisement, she would describe this place as a ‘spirited’ swill-hole. For certain, that sort of language wouldn’t attract the middle classes, but she doubted that’s who this club was intended for. The club name, Chloe hadn’t fully understood it until now, and she hoped she wasn’t correct; but could it possibly refer to its slick walls of plaster? She’d made the mistake of touching one earlier, and found it to be thickly lined with its patron’s sweat. It was disgusting. She beams into the darkness. Good thing Chloe Beale liked getting down and dirty.

Beca too was loving the seedy joint. Although, her favour was born of other preferences. Whilst Chloe was admiring the club’s lawless visuals, Beca was much more entranced with it’s audio. The slow thumping of some amateur house, sends excited vibrations through her chest, and a pleasant tingling up her legs. Her body was _absorbing_ the sound, as was everyone else’s on the dancefloor. They were all hearing the same song and registering its beat simultaneously; in other words, were all feeling the same damn thing in the same exact moment. How _awesome_ was that, for a spilt second, to be truly empathetic with tens of people. Her eyes shine with excitement, this is what music was about for Beca. Music had a way to unify people that was totally unique unto itself. It was the shared feelings, both emotional and physical, that attracted the young 20-something so mightily to her passion. Although, admittedly, this song could still be better (her remixes were _definitely_ better).

“There you guys are!”

Both girls spot Amy at around the same time.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Couldn’t have stood somewhere with a little more lighting? Like under the laser-lights?”

Chloe wasn’t sure if the blonde knew the whole point of this… was to be inconspicuous. Ironically enough, that’s the moment she notices the HUGE Pina colada in the girl’s right hand.

“We’re not supposed to be drinking.” Chloe says somewhat irritated.

“No, _you’re_ not supposed to be drinking.” Amy counters, taking a sip through her bendy straw. The Bellas weren’t exactly paying her for this, so as far as she was concerned Fat Amy could do whatever she liked. “Besides it’s a club, you look weirder if you don’t have a drink in your hand. At least buy a coke or something?”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not for _drinks_ , amirite Beca?” She gives the brunette a wink.

Beca sighs. This was going to be a long evening.

“Look, did your man deliver or not?” Chloe asks.

Instead of answering, Amy takes another slow and deliberate slurp of her drink. Beca watches with a tinge of concern as half the glass’ contents is smoothly sucked down Amy’s throat. Someone had kept up their university level tolerance. That is, if Amy had even attended university. That was a good question for her to follow up on later.

“Here.”

Amy deadpans, and hands Chloe a rather bland plastic card. It’s rather unassuming so far as highly important objects go. It looks like your average hotel key, silver, with EVERMOIST written on it in a black fancy cursive. Other than that, there’s no further detail. It’s almost painfully generic.

“Much obliged.”

“This isn’t something I did for you Red, this was because Beca needed my help.”

“Thanks Ames.” Beca murmurs back, bashfully. She didn’t have to cause drama with Chloe about something so minor though…

“Anyway. Time for me to get my groove on, and I’ll catch up with you losers later.”

“Wait, you’re just going to leave?” Beca panics. Though, she’s unsure as to why really. Amy couldn’t for the life of her, stay discreet in a public space for very long.

“NooOOo!” Amy reassures her. “I’ll be nearby if you need me, just- I won’t be involved in the breaking and entering thing… you wanna do.”

“Yeah, instead she’ll be lurking, and getting drunk off her tits.” Chloe murmurs disapprovingly.

“Um- Of course I don’t do lackey-work ginger-ale, I have people to do that for me.”

“Kind of a dick move.” Chloe murmurs lowly.

“It’s the move of smart woman.” Amy complains, rolling her eyes as she does so. “Beca, I know this girl is pretty, which like, in theory is 90% of the reason you should ever date someone. But have you ever considered the _costs_ of it all?”

“For the last time, we’re not dating!” Chloe gasps in annoyance.

“Really? Because you’re acting awfully jealous of me for someone who isn’t.” Amy hums amused.

Chloe physically sputters at the accusation. Beca’s face turns the colour of ripened strawberries.

“ _Hatred_ , is a different thing than jealousy.”

“It’s impossible to hate me! I’m extremely charming and not-to-mention gorgeous, right Beca?”

“I’m not getting in the middle of you guys weird feud. Besides, I thought you two were getting along?”

Well maybe they would be a little bit more, if Amy hadn’t been such an asshole to them both outside. Chloe didn’t like looking pathetic, if you’d gathered. The Australian had tried to make her feel it slightly in the car.

“Yeah. We’re fine aren’t we Chloe?”

How did her own Christian name, sound to Chloe’s ears, somehow more aggressive than the poorly thought out nicknames Amy had come up with? She feels her fists tighten into a ball by her sides. But then they loosen as she feels a small hand on her shoulder.

“You are fine with her, right?”

Beca’s deep blue eyes are knitted with concern, and Chloe can just about stomach it enough to admit to herself that they soften her soul a little. It wasn’t because she’d realized that she had a thing for the brunette. Chloe did _not_ have a thing for her client, she _did_ however have a thing for evening wear. Plus, the fact the brunette wasn’t all that unattractive in it (objectively), wasn’t helping.

“Yeah.” Chloe calms herself.

“Okay. Amy, we’ll catch you out by the car?”

Amy nods, and seeps back into the crowd. Leaving the two women alone to figure out how to get where the needed to go. EVERMOIST was simple in terms of layout. A four-storey build, with a single dance-floor on the ground, the first-floor demolished, and replaced with rigging, and complex metallic walk-way that ran around the club’s fringe, open to patrons for wondering and committing lewd acts. It gave the impression almost of a prison, a fitting theme considering the roguish nature of its occupants. It also happened to elevate the claustrophobia of the building’s small stature. Perhaps that was what the club interior designer had been thinking when they chose it. On the far wall, to the walkway’s right Chloe spots an indistinct door. That had to be the offices. In the corner left, there’s another, perhaps that was the stairwell? Or maybe it was vice versa? She needed some assistance. Chloe chews her lip, and reluctantly places her finger in her ear, activating her earpiece.

 _“ **Finally**.”_ Stacie’s voice rings way too loud in her head.

“Fuck!”

“What is it?” Beca butts in concerned.

“Nothing, just Stacie patching me in too loud.” Chloe mumbles.

 _“Serves you right.”_ The IT whiz comments.

Dammit she did not need the super-model to be riding her dick as well. Yikes, that feedback had hurt.

“Stacie, I need you to pull me EVERMOIST’S blue-prints, I think I’ve found the offices. Are they on the first floor?”

_“You wouldn’t need me to have done this if you’d just looked over the club plans like I’d asked.”_

“And make your job more boring? Please.”

“I think those ‘offices’ you were talking about, are actually toilets.” Beca winces.

And sure enough, Chloe spots a couple of women exiting the door on the left. Well fuck. She hears Stacie chuckle on the other end of the line. Chloe rides out her minor faux-pas in unamused silence.

_“Yeah, Beca’s right.”_

“What you want me to give her a medal or something? Who cares, now tell me where we have to go.” Chloe growls.

_“Okay, damn! You want the stairwell in the far corner, across the dancefloor. It’s the same one that will take you to the first-floor balcony, but it also continues to the second floor. The attic is where the offices are. That’s where you want to go.”_

“Excellent news!” Chloe murmers, already prepared to wade into the chaos.

_“Wait Chloe, there should be a guard posted outside it!”_

Well, they could sort that problem out when they got there.

“Noted. That’s great anyway Stace, thanks for the service.”

_“Wait what do you mean ‘thanks for the service’?”_

And without another word, Chloe presses a finger to her ear, and turns off her ear piece. Beca looks at her and sighs.

“And you just cut Stacie off, didn’t you?” Beca looks at her unimpressed.

“Yup.”

“You are such an asshole.”

Aubrey was going to be so pissed at them later.

“Noted.” Chloe mumbles. “Now come with me.”

Without much of a second thought, Beca lets Chloe grab her hand, and allows the mercenary to guide her through the strobing sea of chaos.

The crowd is thronging with terrible dancers, who in that 21st century way, have learned no real moves bar jumping up and down on the spot. Not that there’s much room in such a confined space to be pulling off anything more elaborate. Try doing the worm in here, and you’d end up a badly trodden corpse within five minutes. Still, Beca finds herself mesmerized by all the dancers faces: the shit-eating-grins, the spaced-out jocks and extroverts… all of them having an incredible and care-free time. Beca feels a pang of jealousy in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t felt care-free in what felt like months now. They were here, fucking about in a goddamn club, _again_ , whilst this entire time, her dad could be somewhere being tortured. Honestly, she was finding the juxtaposition of their situations emotionally really hard. Beca knew they couldn’t be working at all any faster, but that didn’t cease the incessant guilt she seemed to be feeling. Beca decides to focus her attention back on Chloe, who’s head is rapidly weaving in and out of her vision as Beca’s pulled across the floor with force. At one stage Beca loses sight of her bodyguard completely, as two muscle bound blokes accidently slam together and block her path; and all she can see is Chloe’s arm tightening around hers in annoyance. When Beca finally breaks through that blockade, she realizes with a degree of amazement that they’ve already travelled the length of the club, and are now at the dirty stairwell. So now began their ascent.

It's worse security than they had imagined by _far_. The duo makes it to the first floor no problem, leaping up each turning corner of the case with mighty gusto. The only thing blocking them from heading up the second-floor is a pathetic plastic chain, hooked from one side to the other. “No entry” is hung below it on a redundant sign, because Chloe fully intends on ignoring it. The poor effort is almost laughable, really. Chloe gracefully swoops on under, and gestures for Beca to follow.

“Quick!”

Chloe mouths, more out of excitement than fear. It would seem the biggest threat to catching them thus far, was only going to be other patrons. That might change pretty soon however. The smaller woman follows her obediently, and they disappear around the staircase’s side, where Chloe pauses to rest. What just happened? Beca felt for the briefest of moments like the two of them we giddy children sneaking into their parent’s forbidden study.

“Okay, there could be guard around that corner now.” Chloe whispers, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“How do you know?”

“Stacie gave me some intel on that earlier.”

Great, well it would have been useful to share that information with Beca earlier. But whatever, it’s not like they were in a _partnership_ or something.

“What are you going to do about it?” Beca asks.

There wasn’t much room for a fight up here, and Chloe had… Beca looks her up and down. Yeah, she definitely didn’t look armed or armoured enough to fight back.

“Ehhhhh-” Chloe stalls.

“What do you mean _eh?_ ”

“I think I might wing it.”

“What, no? That’s a terrible idea!”

“Yeah.”  Chloe nods humbly. -But then her head shoots up. “I’m gonna wing it!”

_“Chloe!”_

But Beca’s not quick enough to stop her. Chloe rounds the corner absolutely pumped: fists primed, and fully ready to fight! Hell, if she could whip of her heels and maybe stab a guy in the eye tonight, that would be great! Truly, the possibilities to improvise here were endless, she could even - Oh. The ginger’s hands frustratedly flop back down. Beca cautiously appears by her side.

“What happened?”

“There’s no one here.” Chloe comments bitterly. She’s just pounced at an open and empty space. The wooden, key-padded door, seems to look on at her mockingly. …That doesn’t even make sense for an inanimate object to do.

Beca can’t help but feel relieved. She had no idea what they were going to do with the body of an unconscious person in such a crampt space. Of course, if the ginger had lost and Chloe was the one unconscious that raised a whole new set of issues for Beca too.

“I guess you better hand me the key-card then, Becs.” Chloe moans.

That was her chance at fun evening violence destroyed.

“How do we know there’s not someone on the other side of the door though?” Beca asks.

Chloe pauses, the card still jammed into the lock. That was actually a fairly decent question. Wait, had that been what Stacie had been trying to communicate with her earlier? It made more sense, certainly. But she’s also sure that Fat Amy’s intel had told them the room would be empty.

“Get low, and follow my lead.” Chloe instructs.

Beca’s fast to follow what she says. After-all, following what Chloe had asked of her had thus far managed to keep her alive.

With a quick breath, Chloe quietly slides out the card. The key-pad flashes red three times, then green only once. When Chloe presses down the handle, the door creaks open _just_ a tad. She waits a couple of seconds. Nothing happens. She creaks the door even wider, and peers her head around the side. Still nothing.  Then she opens it completely, and stands back up.

The room is completely empty. As was promised.

It’s also a lot more… disgusting. There’s a low-slung couch parked centrally, in two shades of garish fake leather, creating a private booth of sorts. In the middle of it is a glass table, with three full ash-trays, each brimmed with cigarette butts. The lack of rising smoke lets them know no one’s been here in quite some time. The five empty pint glasses hint something similar. Behind the sunken booth, is the surveillance desk. Chloe’s surprised the club wasn’t using decoy cameras. The stuff they were recording here on a daily basis was pretty incriminating, both for the owners, and for their patrons. If honest police got their hands on this, they were going to have a field-day.

The left wall has on it a ginormous flat-screen. Bigger than any Beca’s ever seen anyhow, and playing on it there’s a music-only TV channel, streaming abusive rap. At least when you took a moment to read the sub-titles you could tell that’s what it was. Otherwise the machine was muted. Clearly not MTV then. To the left, the doorway is open, and Beca can see tiles along its side. Actually, it looked a lot like a kitchen.

“Does someone live here?” Beca murmurs aloud.

“Well if they do, then what we’re looking for is probably-”

“-in the bedroom.” Beca finishes for her. Already moving to the closed door then, on the right.

“Yeah.” Wouldn’t hurt to take a look around here first though.” Chloe comments.

Beca’s not sure what there is to look at. There isn’t much that’s pleasant. The only thing of interest that she can see is the wallpaper made of former club flyers. She recognises a few minor DJ’s that have played here, and even a band. So, this place wasn’t entirely a shit-hole. Although it did NOT deserve such an exclusive VIP list. What was _wrong_ with Barden city? This place sucked. When Beca glances back at Chloe, she sees the woman is rifling through the security desk. Chloe picks out what looks like someone’s wallet. Wait did she pick the lock of that draw?

“Jane Andersson, originally from Queensland, Australia.” Chloe hums.

Beca realizes that immediately as the ID of the club owner.

“Why are you going through her driver’s license and wallet, when we already know who she is? Didn’t you read through the pack Stacie assembled?” Beca hisses.

No, Chloe had _not_ done that… And she isn’t sure why Beca’s decided to whisper at her either. They’d confirmed that they were the only two people on this entire floor after all, who was she hiding from? Never-the-less, Chloe sighs and puts the ID back where she found it. For a notorious drug-lord, Calamity had a rather disappointing real name.

“Let’s just try the bedroom, yeah?” Beca encourages.

Chloe nods at her and they enter the door on the right. It’s just as dingey a reception as the living space: black walls, with tiny windows outward, and walls plastered with posters of past club events. But this time however, there’s also photographed semi-naked women, all framed rather too proudly. It’s rather ugly, Beca feels like she’s acquired 3mm of grime on her body by just walking inside. Central to the room is a king-size, draped in red-silk sheets. In her stomach Beca feels like she might hurl. The leopard print pillows weren’t adding any allure either. This whole pad was beginning to feel like a place featured in a 70’s porno. Or like the interior of one of those freaky sex hotels.

Chloe’s starts rifling through Andersson’s chest-of-drawers, and in a similar spirit, Beca makes her way to the closet. It was either going to be a closet or an en-suite, Beca wasn’t sure yet. If Chloe had actually kept on the damn head-set, they’d know for certain but whatever. Expecting something mundane, Beca opens the door far too casually.

Chloe is by her side in a flash as soon as she hears the DJ yelp. Her jaw drops to the floor moments after Beca’s own. They’re both physically stunned.

The wardrobe… is pink, and frilly, and covered with stuffed animals. A complete contrast the highly sketchy vibe the rest of this place exuded. And dolls, which was where it got a little creepy. Certainly, the jester-puppet would have made Chloe jump too if she’d seen it first. Totally not cool to have it dangling from the ceiling like that, _Jesus_. It dawns on Chloe that all the toys featured are collectables. This was someone’s high-end, private collection.

Beca’s the first to say something.

“Wow, this is-”

“Horrifying?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Well, to each their own I guess. Do you see Shaun?”

Beca gestures docilely to the bottom right of the cupboard, where the sheep is staged against the backwall. He’s bigger than Chloe had previously imagined. Easily the length of her torso. She picks him up by the scruff of his neck, and grimaces as the head flops uselessly forward. It made the inanimate doll appear like the genuinely dead article. Twisting the toy in her hands, and peeling back the fake wool, Chloe can just about see the stitching Dr. Mitchell had mentioned. So, flipping out a pen-knife, she starts on an incision, and in one swift movement has unpicked his discrete work.

Beca isn’t too surprised when Chloe pulls out the instrument from her boot. What is surprising, is it isn’t the same one as the weapon she’d found in Chloe’s draw way-back-when. What, did the mercenary have a whole collection of the things or? The ginger woman tucks the small blade back where she pulled it from. It can’t be at all a comfortable place to keep it.  Beca’s discomfort further increases when Chloe’s finger’s start to rummage around the insides of the brain of her favourite childhood toy.

“Got it!” Chloe triumphantly exclaims, and produces the translucent pink stick. Beca recognises it immediately. When Chloe flips it over to read the other side, she already knows exactly what it will say: **BE** **C** **A’** **S M** **IX** **:** **V** **O** **L** **. 1.** Beca feels her heart _plummet_ through her chest. So, he’d kept it. Her father had kept the first mix she had ever made. Her mood feels suddenly as dark as it had at Dingo Bitch’s. Calmly, the brunette forces herself to exhale, and supresses everything once again, as to not let it overwhelm her.

Chloe must have sensed something was up by the title. Or perhaps it had to do with it being written on so sloppily in green. Beca was sorry to say, nearly a decade later and her handwriting had little improved. It’s then she feels a comforting arm on her shoulder.

“We’ll get him back Beca.” Chloe softly says.

It’s as close a thing to sympathy (empathy too, wow!), that she’s seen Chloe Beale display. The mercenary’s expression is one of deep determination, and Beca feels herself involuntarily smile at it. Even when the hard-ass was trying to be deep, she was kick-ass. That was her bodyguard alright.

“Thanks, Chloe.”

Chloe just nods, and sticks her finger her ear. It seemed Stacie was being re-added to their posy.

_“-EALE! I SWEAR, YOU ANSWER YOUR DAMN HEADSET OR ELSE.”_

“Aubrey?” Chloe answers, genuinely surprised. On the other end of the line, Chloe hears an aggravated sigh.

 _“I am SO mad at you right now!”_ Aubrey threatens. Chloe brushes her off, even though Aubrey’s audible bitterness is rich enough to make a high-quality black coffee.

“Don’t be, we got the sheep!” Chloe says cheerfully, wondering her way back into the living-room. Her boss will have cooled down by the time they made it back. On her way, she shoves the mutilated toy into Beca’s arms.

_“Yeah we know, we were watching you on camera.”_

Stacie’s voice is back on comms. It’s where it belongs. That works in part to calm Chloe a little. Through her computer screens at the Bella base, Stacie catches grey-scale digital-Chloe look nervously upward. The IT tech’s friendly mark, spots the hacked camera in seconds. The field-agent proceeds to give a meek wave to them both, and Stacie knows her well enough to assume this is probably her version of an apology. Not that it really was. Chloe would most certainly pull this shit on Stacie again. Beside her, Commander Posen looks like a vein might pop in her forehead. Stacie makes a note to ask her boss about her blood pressure.

_“Hi, Chloe.”_

In EVERMOIST, Chloe cringes at the mounted telescope above the security feed, and at Stacie’s dry attempt at humour. She should have known that Bree wouldn’t have taken her actions lying-down. Damn she could be a dick, Chloe shouldn’t have worried her best-friend like that.

Chloe calls out to Beca, who’s still in the bedroom.

“Beca come on, we need to go!”

She leaves it up to the smaller woman to put the sheep back where they’d found it. Like it would be all that hard.

“Coming!” Beca replies, and mooches out the room at snail’s pace, much to Chloe’s annoyance. For a civilian, Beca was much too chilled with all this imminent danger already. Besides, what had she been doing in there this whole time?

_“I’d talk with you more, but for now I have to erase the feed of you getting here-”_

There’s a dramatic pause in Stacie’s sentence that shouldn’t be there. Chloe picks up on it quickly enough. Something had gone wrong. Chloe puts her hand to her ear piece.

“Stacie what is it?”

Chloe hears Aubrey murmuring something illegible in the background. Something about the rhythm in which she’s saying it, makes it sound a lot to Chloe like she’s cussing.

_“Chloe, you have to get out of there.”_

Stacie’s panicked voice interrupts her train of thought.

“What, why?”

_“The guard I mentioned that should’ve been in here? Well, I think she’s coming back. She’s wading across the dancefloor with some serious purpose.”_

“Shit.”

_“Yep. Looks like she’s headed for the stairs.”_

Fuck.

_“You probably have about a minute.”_

Frantically, Chloe looks at Beca, and points to the exit.

“Out the door, now!”

“What? What’s going on?” Beca looks at her panicked. Okay, maybe Chloe had been too quick to assume the girl’s fast adjustment to her line of work.

“Someone’s coming. Go! Wait no, pass me the key card first!” Chloe hisses. Now whispering seemed to make sense.

Beca tosses the key card and Chloe’s quick to catch it. Approaching the desk, she slides it neatly into the second draw down, where Amy’s contact suggested it go. Nice.

Beca’s hand is on the door knob, and the woman is primed and ready to leave on Chloe’s command. Chloe gives a curt nod, and Beca pushes hard down on the handle.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while. Hope y'all are doing well my friends! Thanks so much for the continued read!
> 
> Britishgal  
> oxoxo


	13. The Quagmire Club (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does the girl's vital mission, become such a Calamity?

#   The Quagmire Club 

#  (Part 2)

###  Chapter 13

They exit as quiet as mice, not a thing interrupting them. It’s a good feeling, Chloe feels the tenseness in her chest ease just a little, as the office doors gently close. At least that part had gone okay, no one around on the other side to have spotted them either. Speaking of, Chloe wonders if they even have the time to-

_“There is no way in hell you two are making it down those stairs before Ms. Security arrives.”_

Chloe sucks in a nervous breath as Stacie interrupts her train of thought. Then, without thinking, her arm whips out to grabs Beca’s; to stop the girl dashing away and blowing everything in the process. Chloe shakes her head at her, and hopes Beca gets the message. She’s grateful that the brunette has turned down her level of Chloe-directed-feist. There’s no snarky comment. It keeps a lid on her level of stress.

“ _Shit_ , Chloe what do we do?” Beca asks instead.

Spoke too soon, Chloe thinks she preferred the snark. Chloe realizes she doesn’t know, she doesn’t know, and normally that’s A-Okay! With an experienced partner that was usually fine! Aubrey could fight her own battles. Beca on the other hand, was about as useless as a cat was at opening a bottle of milk. What if Beca got hurt? How the hell was Chloe supposed to get her out of a club full of criminals? She exhales. She was Chloe goddamn Beale. Chloe could do anything. Chloe was a boss-bitch after-all.

“Calm down.” Chloe murmurs back, absentmindedly.

“Calm _DOWN_?” Beca hisses back. She hopes Chloe can sense the light malice.

CALM DOWN!?! They were at a notorious gang-bangers club, in the middle of Barden, Georgia, on the upper management level that they had NO right at all to be on. They were trespassing inside a drug-lord’s personal office / apartment, where it looks like she even fucking slept for fuck's sake! That, and she had a goddamn hard drive with private and illegal data in her arms and absolutely zero places in which to hide it. If the guards found out about any of this, the two protagonists were going to fucking die. Well, Beca would die. _Chloe_ would be fine. Chloe was always fine in these life or death situations, good for her. But BECA GOT DRUGGED last time something like this happened! Not an experience she was at all eager to repeat. The sound of radio static becomes even louder down the stairwell.  Fuck.

“Okay.” She hears Chloe murmur.

Oh, okay was it?

“Okay what?” Beca snaps. Chloe turns to her.

“Do you trust me?”

There’s a look of dependence, not cold indifference in Chloe’s eyes right now, and that in a way said enough about the dire nature of the situation they had found themselves in. Beca wants to reply with ‘not really’ but hell, the hit-woman had somehow kept her alive for the last 5 days which was pretty nice of her, and well, she did patch Beca up after she’d gotten shot. But then again, she also pistol-whipped and kidnapped her in the first place. So, it was safe to say her emotions were more mixed up than the headphone wires in her bedroom draw.

“Sorta?” She whimpers.

Chloe looks a tad offended but brushes it off. Sorta had to be a good enough answer for her right now, Beca supposed. They could work out whatever the frick their relationship dynamic was later, but over the dull thud of the music downstairs she could now hear radio chatter. Oh shit, she hoped Chloe had a game plan, because looking at her now she looks sort of nervous. Chloe had a subconscious habit of biting her lip when she was. Beca wondered if she knew? She looks to see shadows rising on the wall. God Chloe what are you waiting for? Beca wants to scream, though that would definitely worsen the situation. She hears perhaps two more ominous guard footsteps, before Chloe is suddenly pulling Beca toward her and grabbing her by her hand and lifts it up. It’s weirdly intimate, Beca is not at all a fan. Her eyes flick to the USB, what was Chloe planning on-

“I’ll ask your permission later okay, but for now act really drunk okay? Follow my cue.”

That somehow left her with even more questions, that wasn’t helpful at all! There’s no time for Beca to get a word in however, as Chloe falls back against the wall, and pulls Beca over her.  Beca stumbles forward and lands with a hand pressed just above Chloe’s head, in just the right place to stabilise herself. Another second and she realizes she’s uncomfortably close to the ginger, actually leaning into her. Her face burns with embarrassment. Was this some sort of joke? _Hey_! Chloe’s hand has moves onto clutching her wrist, and as Beca tries to pull away, Chloe holds it firmly down. Beca’s frown deepens, but she lets Chloe do whatever she intends to. Beca is honestly too fucking scared to voice her own unexperienced opinion, so she watches as her own hand is guided, feeling somewhat dumbstruck and confused, (the USB is still in her clutch mind), up Chloe’s thigh. Her breath hitches as it disappears under the slit in Chloe’s dress. Beca’s eyebrows are raised so high she’s almost certain they leave her forehead. That’s a high slit. That’s like a very high slit. She thirst swallows, her bi mind low-key freaking. She just felt up her kidnapper. Beca’s fairly certain her face is flushing bright red right now. What the hell was going on? She needed an explanation for all of this immediately. Beca doesn’t get the chance to ask her. Instead, Beca’s left even more dumb-founded, as Chloe’s face morphs instantly from serious spy to… seriously drunk. Then Chloe _giggles_ , actually _giggles_ as her hands wrap around Beca’s neck. **_Yo, what the fu-_**

“You’re sooooooo hot, Becs.”

Chloe drawls, and leaning her head into Beca’s she laughs again. Beca’s head is reeling.

“Becs?” Beca answers back a little hoarsely. Just registering the cute nickname. Her heart races at just how close their bodies are. Beca is now hyper aware of the one hand she’s got posed oh so high up Chloe’s thigh. Oh my god. Then she hears the guard’s footsteps round the corner of the staircase. The cogs in her brain are working on full overtime before she thinks she’s finally on the same page as Chloe. …Oh. _OH!_

“HEY, YOU!”

Oh, fuck they’ve been spotted, time for some serious commitment.

“Kiss me.” Fake-Drunk Chloe whines.

The tone is so out of character for her Beca feels genuinely shaken. _Kiss her?_ Like right now? The premise was dizzying. But their story wouldn’t be all that believable if Beca acted as straight as a ruler. God, she hated this. This here was a text-book scenario written by a sexually frustrated CIS man in his mid-thirties. That was defo the only kind of person who could write something like this. Who else in their damn mind was this dumb? This definitely had to be some dude’s wet dream, a hot female assassin making out with an attractive female college graduate. Beca desperately tries not to think of her very real, life-endangering experience as someone’s fictional story but it’s getting increasingly hard not to. Whomever was writing this could go to hell, and preferably, they could take Chloe Beale with them along the way. She doesn’t need to worry about initiating anything in the end, as Chloe closes the distance for them. Then suddenly the approaching guard is all but forgotten, and for once in her mind there’s complete quiet. Chloe’s lips are soft and taste vaguely of lime and beer. For a while, Beca’s not aware of much else, until she feels the ginger’s arms wrap tighter around her, and reflexively she does the same.

“Hey you two! Break it up, this space is off limits!”

Beca snaps to attention and breaks away from Chloe’s embrace as fast and as subtly as she can manage. Simultaneously, she’s also trying to supress the part of her that was majorly freaking out. Beca switches her attention to look at the guard, and realizes she feels pretty breathless. Chloe looks dazed, Beca can’t tell if that’s a part of her over-acting or not.

“Um-” Beca starts.

“Hiiiiiii-” Chloe drunk waves. Okay, well clearly one of them knew what role they were playing.

“Sorry. Sorry ma’am, we were just um-” Beca continues.

God, what were they doing? Beca feels a tad light-headed. She feels herself grinning but blames it on her own over-acting.

“ _Beca_ was just showing me a good time.”

Chloe purrs into her side. Then she has the fucking nerve to lean in and playfully nuzzle Beca’s ear. Oh, but that’s not all. She was hoping Chloe was going to stop there, but no, because Beca then feels the tip of her tongue and the skim of teeth over the skin on her ear, and Chloe’s hands are back around her waist and she’s moving down… Beca internally has to resist the urge to close her eyes- wait her eyes are already shut. That’s when she realizes they need to stop. **_Too far Beale_**.

Her eyes snap open again, and she gently pushes the ginger away. Just enough so she can actually, y’know, see the security guard.

“Er- yeah I guess I was.” Beca swallows, mustering as much fake confidence as she can muster. With all the kissing, it’s hard to determine whether she feels elated or freaked.

She tries to lean into the lie again, aiming to pull Chloe closer, for realism of course, until she realizes her slit-hand had at some point moved onto Chloe’s ass. Her face flushes. Oh, fuck the USB, was there. The point of Chloe’s plan suddenly dawns on her. OH. She awkwardly coughs away her embarrassment. Beca feels like dying on the spot.

“If you wanna fuck somewhere, do it in the cheap hotel cross the street. Don’t do it where you might get hurt. You understand me?”

Chloe feigns being intimidated, wrapping her arms around Beca’s in mock fear. All this, when Beca knows she can royally kick her ass. She resists shaking her head. This was really setting feminist movement back. Part of her just wanted Chloe to knock this person to the floor. Anyway, she definitely isn’t keeping her hand on Chloe’s butt. It’s weird, and WAY too inappropriate.  Beca is not a fan of that tactic at all. Beca slips her hand, out of her dress and behind her back. Fuck. Beca’s fairly certain the guard notices her subtle move.

Of course, the guard fucking notices. She’s not a dumbass.

Chloe has to suck in a breath to stop herself from yelling at the DJ for being such an idiot. Oh my god, how was she both simultaneously both such a good _and_ bad actress?

“What have you got there?”

The guard asks, and Chloe notices the way she’s lightly thumbing her holstered taser. Play it cool Beale.

“Nothing.” Beca innocently replies.

 _You goddamn idiot_. Chloe thinks. She’s not wrong.

“Show me your hands.”

“I don’t think there’s any need to do THAT-” Chloe tries to interrupt.

“Show me your hands, or I get out my taser.” The guard demands once more.

“Is that a threat?” Chloe growls.

“ _Hands_. NOW!”

Chloe moves forward, fists clenched, jaw set. This time Beca puts _her_ wrist in a clamp, and she’s right. Chloe has a role to play. Best to not blow it and see where it took them. She releases a steady breath.

“Beca show her your hands.” Chloe calmly answers.

Slowly, Beca raises them into the air, grasping the USB in the tips of her thumb and forefinger.  The unnamed security guard’s eyes narrow.

“Where’d you get that?”

“It’s my DJ-mix. I snuck it in here in the hopes that maybe DJ Staxx would play it. He’s the _best_.” Beca gushes, plastering on a fake zillion-watt smile.

 _SEE!!!_ The tiny DJ was perfectly capable of being a good actress! Dammit Beca, have some freaking consistency for once, that’s all Chloe was mentally asking for. Credit where it was due though, Chloe hadn’t thought to learn the name of the person who was playing here tonight. But in her defence, who’d thought it would’ve been at all helpful. Anyway, best to help the small-girl with her ruse.

“Beca’s _such_ a good DJ!” She tells the bodyguard as proudly as she can. “Baby, maybe the manager would be interested in giving it a listen?” Chloe falls back into the persona of drunk ditz, voice purring.  Beca is decidedly uncomfortable with _everything_ right now. The security guard doesn’t seem phased, however.

“Hoping to grab a meeting with the manager, huh? Well it’s your lucky day then sweethearts, because you’re both coming with me.”

\----

They’re reluctantly led downstairs to the VIP basement, shoved along in front of the unnamed security guard as if they’re two detainees in orange about to be processed. It’s not a pleasant feeling. Beca is especially uncomfortable with those judgmental eyes boring into the back of her skull. Please, this guard was as guilty of as much illegal activity as they were. Well, maybe not as much as Chloe. Speaking of, the mercenary seems to disappear as they’re led further downward, and the building starts to get so dark it seems that it’s swallowing them up. Beca isn’t sure this place is the right one to house a VIP section. For one, the stench of feet, and sweat, seems amplified down here compared to on the dance-floor, and paying extra for the experience of that alone seemed not worth it. But just as Beca is feeling possibly as depressed as she can be in this place, it eventually opens up to something that’s admittedly better. Though it’s still massively underwhelming.

The basement is dark and dingy, it reeks of smoke and faintly of weed. Beca is suddenly aware that’s she doesn’t want to know this place’s policy on fires. There’s an empty bar on the far left, with a bored looking barman behind, sipping on his own half-empty soda water. The image perfectly sums up Beca’s current mood. In the other corner of the dark basement, there’s a booth that’s different to the sparsely-filled others surrounding it. You can tell it’s for some reason special because it’s uniquely raised on a constructed stage. As if that isn’t enough, there’s also some light UV fencing around its perimeter. Yeesh. Beca takes it this section was for the exclusively exclusive. The impressive woman sitting in dead center of it on a plush sofa, suited up and looking like a metallic rock-goddess, only seems to confirm this for her. Guess they’d found the manager.

The two women are escorted up the small stairs at the booth’s edge. Beca assumes they’re being led to sit on the sofa opposite. Then a burly man steps out to stop her moving further in and Beca and Chloe are forced to stand in ‘T’. The two are ceremoniously checked for their ID and phones, both of which the girls are stripped of. The guard’s hands lingering on her body for much longer than she’d like considering she’s wearing so little. Beca grimaces.

Luckily, they don’t find earpiece, but Chloe notices that its suspiciously quiet anyhow. Normally Stace liked to chat her ears off. Something was off. There must be a radio dampener in here to cut out any police radio signals, Chloe realizes. Smart move. Looked like for now then, that they were on their own. Unless Stacie had hacked any nearby cameras? But considering the sophistication of the radio blocker Chloe highly doubted Calamity was going to be so careless on that front.  

The two are shoved forward again, onto the couch opposite Calamity’s. It was tiny and unimpressive. Probably a conscious power move on the club-owner’s front. Chloe equally respects her and hates her a little bit. Why was the club scene in Barden full of such A-holes?

On the crammed leather sofa, Beca’s shoved so awkwardly close to Chloe that the entire length of their body’s end up touching. Minus their heads of course. It’s causing Beca’s heart to race a little faster in her chest. Chloe reaches for her inner hand and grabs onto it with some force, and Beca has to force herself to remember to breathe. Evidently, they were keeping up with this damnable charade of them being a couple. That was stupid, and it wasn’t helping to turn off the alarm bells in her stomach about this damnable _crush_ situation! Beca wants to leap away and scream at her to cut it out already!

Meanwhile, Chloe is busy eyeing up their opponent for the first time. Calamity was really attractive. Like seriously attractive, and dangerously chic, with her cropped brunette hair and neck tattoos. Her metallic suit was also mesmerizing. Chloe feels an odd sense of competitiveness bubble from within. She was not used to sharing being the most attractive presence in the room.

Beca feels Chloe’s hand suddenly take a vice like grip on hers. Ow! Beca opens her mouth to object, but Calamity brings her hand up to silence her. Tad rude.

Then, an unnamed security guard leans over to whisper something in the manager’s ear, and Calamity is given possession of their phones, and their wallets. She thumbs through them with mild interest, a mild smirk gracing her lips when she sees Chloe’s for some reason. The security is different from the woman who had found them earlier: male for one thing. Chloe watches Calamity nod along to whatever else the man says. Then Calamity speaks.

“So, this auspicious device. It’s a DJ mix, huh?”

She holds up the translucent pink USB, and thumbs it suspiciously in front of the two women. Fuck, it’s so tempting to just reach out and grab it. Beca was certain if she tried right now, Chloe could at least take down three of these douche-bags before they both ended up on Barden’s morgue table. Beca could take down one maybe? there was like a 50/50 chance of success there for her, but for her father she was willing to try anything. Beca plasters on a smile, and preps to get scrappy. _Keep a lid on it Mitchell, she chastises._ The girl swallows her pride.

“Yes!” Beca answers as cheerfully as she can. “I was just super excited to present it to you, and to play it to Mr Staxx, as I was telling your colleague. Whom, I can’t seem to see anymore...”

Beca innocently looks around, where had old miserable-and-brooding disappeared off too anyhow?

“Doesn’t explain why you were in my club’s restricted section.” Calamity continues unamused.

“Well I- was headed to the VIP area, but I got a little _distracted_ , by this one, over here.”

She grins and holds up her and Chloe’s intertwined arms.

“You don’t get a catch like this every day!”

Chloe laughs, that stupid fake-drunk one, and ducks head into the crook in Beca’s neck. If you didn’t know her, you wouldn’t have spotted the hard edge to it that lay underneath. That firmly meant, that Chloe was going to kill her for that comment later.

Calamity looks Chloe up and down, clearly checking her out herself. She nods as if she gets it, and Beca suddenly feels defensive and totally ready to defend her fake one-night stand’s honour. God this place was turning her into a potential full-time brawler wasn’t it? What was in the air?

Chloe smiles at how the smaller woman tenses under Calamity’s gross gaze and Calamity takes it for her flirting back. She supposed that worked for the con they were pulling.

“Well… Beca. _Deidre_. If you really were two gorgeous young queer women, normally I’d say welcome to my club, and welcome you into my VIP section with open arms. But… it seems you’ve already broken the generous rules of my hospitality by _lying_ , to Renée over there.”

Deidre??? Really??? Is all Beca can dumbly think. How may fake ID’s did Chloe own? Also, that six-foot-six guy over there was called Renée? That part was less important, in fact Beca shouldn’t be dwelling on that too much.

Chloe remains silent in response to the question, though Beca is desperate to let her take the lead. It would seem like they’d been made already. But Calamity seems pretty relaxed about the whole ordeal, and is taking the scandalous revelation in her stride. Beca figures it has to be a positive thing that they aren’t dead yet. Calamity brazenly nods.

“Yeah, you can both cut the act. Neither of you are drunk, you’re not even a couple. In fact, I’ve just been informed you haven’t bought a thing since entering my bar.”

Beca can picture Amy’s groaning face right now just above Calamity’s.

_“I told you short-stack! When exactly are you going to listen to me for once?”_

When the Earth got swallowed by its sun, that’s when Beca would finally listen to Fat Amy.

Beca also wonders if they’re going to continue to lie through this or what?

“Whaaaaaat, we’re totally a couple!” Beca says.

“No. You’re not.”

Beca winces at the level of utter faith in Calamity’s statement.

With that cutting comment Chloe slides her hand out of Beca’s, cool as a cucumber. Beca’s embarrassed to say that she already missed the contact.

Calamity puts her glass of wine on the counter and regards the two women warily. Beca and Chloe gaze back with a similar level of mistrust.

“Do you guys like Long Islands? I love a Long Island. Bring me a Long Island, this one a Cuban storm and you…” Calamity clicks her fingers at ‘Deidre’. “God, I wanna say a lager?”

Chloe’s eyes narrow. She didn’t like it when people thought they could read her. She wasn’t about to give Calamity the satisfaction of thinking she had correctly done so.

“A medium glass of pinot, and two cubes of ice.”

Well at least she was spot on about the spiced rum for Beca. Kudos. She hoped Calamity had enough class to at least make her drinks here with Kraken. Captain Morgan was all well and good for a night out, but as a last drink before her possible death, it would have been nice to have been offered a beverage from the higher shelves.

“So. If you weren’t here to demonstrate a mix for me… and are not at all in the employment of Amy Hobart. Why were you up by my offices?”

“Well we-” Beca starts, but Calamity shushes her. She’s not finished.

The club-owner was still searching for her troublesome country-woman but they weren’t able to find her anywhere. Not that Calamity would know what to do with Amy exactly if she had been found. Amy was far too powerful an opponent to be intimidating, like these two. Luckily for her these guys seemed much more disposable. But she couldn’t be certain of that, just yet.

“Nevermind, I’m sure I’ll figure out your motives on my own.” She continues, before leaning curiously forward toward Chloe. “But in the meantime, I must know- Who are you?”

Chloe gives a flat smile.

“You know who I am.”

“No, I know who _she_ is.”

Calamity gestures to Beca.

“Her ID is as real as you or me. _Yours_ on the other-hand, well I can recognize my own club’s handiwork.”

Chloe’s careful to keep her composure.

“You’re bluffing.”

Calamity lightly clicks her tongue.

“The name _Serenity_ mean anything to you?”

 _Shit_. Still that didn’t mean anything for certain. Calamity could be lying. She could have just used Serenity’s services herself. After all, how many ID forgers could co-exist in a localized place?

The Club-owner soldiers on, not allowing Chloe room to formulate a lie.

“So, who are you? I mean I could… phone her up and ask her right now if you’d like. I actually have her on speed-dial-”

“Go ahead, do it.” Chloe dares her, but Calamity isn’t done yet.

“-And I could also get her to release the details of your other fake ID’s, if you have those. With all your bravado, I must say you do appear to be the type.”

Who was to say Chloe didn’t go to other people for those?

“I know what you’re thinking. But no, you wouldn’t go to other people. It would have been the smart thing for you to do, but also, Serenity’s the best in the business. So why would you?”

Clearly, she wasn’t good enough. And Calamity was reading her like it was child’s play. Chloe has to hide the anger she’s quickly accumulating inside, it was embarrassing, and was triggering her impulsiveness.

“Call her then. Get them released.”

“No don’t!” Beca intervenes, then quickly rounds on the ginger. “ _Chloe don’t be stupid!_ ”

God knew how many creeps and weirdos that alarm siren would attract if Calamity was telling the truth. And Beca had a feeling she was.

“Just tell her who you are.” Beca prompts. What could be the harm in it, really? Better her knowing that Chloe was a mercenary, rather than assuming them as enforcement any day!

Chloe sighs, then straightens up. Very well. But if this went tits up she was blaming Beca for all of it.

“My name is Chloe Beale.” Chloe replies. Charity openly nods.

“And what is it that you do, Chloe Beale?”

“And here I was, hoping you’d heard of me.” Chloe answers coolly.

“Well in Calamity’s defense, it’s kind of hard to hear of someone when they’re constantly using a fake identity.” Beca counters.

Chloe frowns at her sharply, and Calamity releases a sharp bark of laughter.

“Rebecca has a point Miss Beale.”

Chloe elects to ignore them both.

“I work for the Barden Bella’s.” Chloe continues.

This seems to win back some respect from Calamity.

“So, you’re a local gun-for-hire?”

Chloe was a _bit_ more than that. But she gives the dirty club-owner a brief nod none-the-less.

“Interesting.”

Before the conversation can continue, the groups drinks are finally delivered, and along with it, some more intel it would seem. The guard-slash-waiter leans once again into Calamity’s ear and whispers something important. But it’s a smidgen too quiet for either woman to hear. Chloe shifts nervously.

“I see.” Calamity pulls away, and turns her focus to Chloe once more. “So, you were telling me the truth?”

“Yes.” Chloe says.

“Uh-huh.” Calamity calmly nods, then sighs, and takes a long sip from her cocktail. She places it with care back onto the glass coffee table, and all three of them sit motionless for a moment. Then without another word, in a whirlwind of activity, Calamity pulls out the gun from her guard’s pocket. She aims it straight at Beca: unmistakably not a taser, but a fully loaded pistol. Security was certainly a bit heavier down here. Chloe leaps up for where they’re sat.

“Now hold on!”

“I’m going to ask you one more time, what it was that you were doing around my offices.”

“We weren’t in your offices.”

Calamity unfeelingly cocks the gun.

“Really? Because it appears that inside my offices, someone has ripped a hole in the back of something very important of to me. And all this could only have been done moments before we found you. Is there any evidence of other tampering?”

Calamity snaps at Renée.

“No Boss.” He dutifully replies. She turns her attention briefly back to Beca and Chloe.

“Then you’re good.” She switches back to Renée. “Get me a laptop.”

Beca’s stood motionless, the iris of the gun-barrel gazing hungrily into her chest. She has the strangest urge to put her hands in the air, but fights it every step of the way. No need to be further humiliated by the criminal community, she was undervalued enough as it was by its friendly bunch. Also, FYI, it was still freshly horrifying to be held at gun-point. You’d think by now, the whole of this experience would have jaded her a little, but no. Good to know her survivalist tendencies hadn’t given up on her just yet.

“Um- Why exactly, do you need a laptop?” Beca asks.

“To see what’s on that memory stick of yours. Unless… you want to tell me now, save us both some time? Cooperation and kindness are far more useful tools than aggression, or so my therapist says.”

Chloe nods in agreement. Calamity’s therapist seemed like a smart woman. But as for telling her about any of the USB’s content, well that was Beca’s decision. Revealing what was on it could have dire consequences. She glances questioningly in the petite brunette’s direction.

Beca couldn’t tell her. Her father’s life was on the line. But if she didn’t tell Calamity what she wanted to hear, there was a very high likelihood both herself AND Chloe were going to find themselves in unmarked graves of their own. And though Beca did want to get closer to the ginger, the pinning and useless bisexual that she was, that was not the context in which she imagined doing so. So, she scoffs.

“It’s total garbage, it’s just my music. There’s nothing else of value on it at all.” Beca lies.

Calamity eyes her with a dead expression. Like as if what Beca has just told her is so stupid that to get away from it she’s physically projected her consciousness onto the astral plane. There are several beats of awkward silence before the club-owner speaks again. Her voice is crisp and threatening.

“I don’t believe for a second, that you hired a mercenary, to help you recover some lost music that you made. And that this music was stuffed inside a limited-edition Shaun the Sheep’s brain to keep it safe. And that this sheep by coincidence, made it into the hands of Patricia Hobart.”

The cogs seem to be whirring in Calamity’s brain pretty quickly now, and her other hand grasps round the one holding the gun to steady it. It’s a much better technique. Chloe feels almost relieved by the sight.

“Wait a minute, _is_ Amy the one that put you up to this?”

 _Fuck_. Fat Amy as a patsy, why hadn’t Chloe thought of that?

“No-” Beca answers before Chloe can say yes. “See my father gave Amy the sheep, not knowing that I’d hidden something inside it. It’s- it was the back up demo I had for my career tape. My laptop crashed recently, I lost everything, and I need this one to send to record companies.”

“I thought you said the tape was garbage.”

“Well, to _you_ it would be-”

“That sheep wasn’t garbage to me.”

“We saw.” Chloe comments, mentally shuddering at the image of that closet once more.

“Anyway, we’re really very sorry about the sheep, and we should have just come to you, and explained everything-”

“You would’ve said no.” Chloe grumbles roughly. People like her and Calamity didn’t do well with grovelling.

“Equatorial sunset is right. I would’ve just told you to fuck off.”

Ow.

“Oh.” Is all Beca can reply with. Calamity mulls over the tiny DJ’s request for a moment.

“It’s a sound explanation. Although, it doesn’t explain where you got the money to hire kissed-by-fire.”

“Chloe owed me a favour.”

“Was that debt partially repaid with that steaminess earlier, or was that unrelated?”

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable.” Chloe answers flatly. “I was hoping to throw your security off-guard.”

“Sure.” Calamity dismisses. Her attention drawn to the arrival of the laptop she’d requested. Beca feels her fingers clench into the sides of her chair. Calamity greedily smiles, and plugs the USB into the old machine’s side. She lets her security handle the rest. Too lazy to do it herself, Beca supposed.

Chloe glances to her charge, and sees the Beca’s fists are clenched white beside her. The poor girl was clearly terrified, but looking up her face is neutral and unfeeling. Seeing it, Chloe feels a surprising emotion in her stomach, an unexpected pang of something. It felt like… guilt. Beca shouldn’t be here, or dealing with anything like this; she seemed entirely undeserving of the cards that fate had dealt her. Once again, Chloe feels irrationally mad at their paying client Ben Mitchell. Her own father, Harvard Beale may be a proud and stoic man, but he would never pull a stunt like this. It makes her appreciate him despite his flaws just a little bit more.

Calamity watches the hands of her minion fly competently over the laptop, and the files on the USB are easily accessed without much effort on anyone’s part. Rebecca hadn’t even password protected any of it, truly shoddy work for such apparently valuable work. The folder is simply named as expected: Music. So, her guard clicks it, and within that there’s the listed songs. He goes into another called ‘unedited playlists’ and rapidly scrolls for anything that stands out. All the sound files are pretty old, all things considered. There’s some Maroon 5, McFly, Backstreet Boys and predictably Destiny’s Child.  All names which take Calamity back to her cringe-worthy adolescence. The guard double clicks one of the sound files.

“ _Sweeeeet Ca-ro-line- Duh. DUH, duh, DUUUUUH! Good times NEV-uh seemed so goooood-”_

With a panicked yelp, the unnamed security turns off the music. Leaving them only with dull thudding from the music upstairs once more.

“It would seem uh- that Beca was telling the truth Miss.” He informs Calamity sheepishly.

Beca blinks away her amazement. Wait, that really was one of the songs from her original mix. She wants to peer round at the screen Calamity is seeing, to see with her own eyes just exactly what the fuck was going on, but that would give away the integrity of her lie. Also, she was still being held at gun point-

“Neil Diamond?” Chloe murmurs her way, clearly amused.

“That one was… a dead end.” Beca says.

Messing with that song as a teen Beca had learnt a lot. Primarily that you shouldn’t improve music that was already gold in the club.

Feeling deflated, Calamity broodily collapses back into her chair, and rubs her forehead in disbelief. She couldn’t believe that these idiots were telling her the truth the entire time. It was just a mixtape, some amateur remixes of professional hits, a mix with a nobody’s vocals. Well fuck. What the hell was she supposed to do with that knowledge? This night hadn’t gone how the club-owner had expected at all. And dealing with these two harshly seemed unwarranted now, and messy, considering it wasn’t just Amy they were connected too, but now the Barden Bella’s as well. Calamity need a plan.

“Well…” She lowers her gun. The tiny brunette sighs in relief.

“Well?” Beca weakly responds.

“I suppose… I should let you both go with a warning. You told me the truth as requested, and nothing valuable was taken. Plus, you’re of no threat to me currently.”

“Then can I have my USB back now?” Beca eagerly requests.

God, this girl was really desperate, it was just getting sad at this point. Calamity looks at her with pity.

 “-And our wallets. You can keep my ID though. Guess I don’t need it anymore.” Chloe cuts in.

“I’ll make sure it’s disposed of with care. Consider it a favour to the Bella’s. How I released you unharmed is of course, another.”

Chloe’s eyes narrow. She watches cynically as Calamity tucks the gun into the back of her trousers, gangland style, and as extends out her hand.

“Perhaps the two of us can be of use to each-other in the future?” She offers, and Chloe’s reluctant to, but shakes the club-owner’s hand none-the-less. Good manners were key to forming unsteady truces among the factions. Plus, if Calamity had easy access to Serenity, perhaps she could help Chloe out in finding other elusive-yet-useful contacts.

Calamity directs them to the staircase. Chloe takes it that thins means its time for the two women to leave.

“My men will take you out the back entrance of the Club. Miss Beale, consider yourself added to our VIP section. You’re welcome back in at any time. If you need me, you know where to find me. Miss Mitchell… well, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not sure what it is you have to offer, and you _did_ direct breaking into my establishment. None-the-less, I’d hate to be discourteous, so my invitation extends to you also. I hope your kind enough this time not to abuse it.”

Beca would be offended by this, but as it stands she has no desire to come back here ever again. So, she nods and accepts Calamity’s terms, and tries to hide the glee in her manner as Calamity gives her back her USB. It’s only mildly chastening to be escorted to the back of EVERMOIST and kicked out of its fire-exit fully sober. Far worse is that the damp back-alley reeks of piss and garbage. Beca’s nose wrinkles in disgust. She hears the institute’s rotting doors slam with finality behind her, and winces at how loud they sound.

\----

Calamity smiles as the doors seal behind the women. She’s infinitely glad to be rid of them. Irritating flies in her vision, the both of them, but interesting and _not_ to be underestimated. Her eyes hover fondly over the closed laptop, and her hand fondly caresses its chrome surface. But maybe now her evening could really begin? She turns her attention to her favoured guard, Renée.

“Did you get it?”

“Yes boss.” The human freight-train answers. Calamity’s smiles extends to be sinisterly huge.

“Excellent.” She answers simply.

\-----

Beca’s eyes squint into the dark. Chloe’s just ahead. _Finally, they were alone_. She pushes that traumatizing afterward interaction with Calamity from her mind, and Beca inhales as deeply and purposefully as she can muster.

Beca inhales as deeply and purposefully as she can muster. She’d been waiting to yell at Chloe the damn entire night.

“ _What the **hell** was that!?”_

Chloe’s shoulders drop in front of her, and frustratedly she whips around. She knew exactly what the tiny DJ was mad about. The mercenary apathetically rolls her eyes.

“An act.”

“An act. Sure. Jesus Chloe, a little warning next time?”

“Oh, like you warned me when we were outside that club the first time we kissed?” Chloe snaps back.

ON THE CHEEK. Beca had kissed her, on the cheek, to comfort her. It’s not like she was attracted to her at all at that point. Fuck, what was she saying. At that point? What the hell did that mean? How long exactly had she been unwittingly crushing on this woman?

“I was actually drunk that first time. And since when- since when is a person asking for permission afterward totally okay? Tad rapey Chloe.”

“You’re right, I should have just let her taser us on sight. That would have been a great idea! Besides, you seemed like you were into it.”

Beca sputters.

“I was not!”

“Your hand was on my ass.”

“ _REFLEXES_.”

There was _no way_   Beca could like someone this annoying.

“a-HEM.” A voice interrupts them from the darkness. And all of a sudden, the car-lights of a beautiful black jaguar illuminates the alley to reveal Fat-Amy looking highly, terribly uncomfortable.

“Amy! Uhm hey.”

“What’re you doing here?”

Amy shrugs.

“Sometimes I like to hook up with one of the club guards. Maybe you met him inside? He’s called Bumper, kind of an idiot. We have sex in my car.”

“Gross.”

“Did not need to know that.”

“Could say the same about you two lovebirds. Anyway, what brings you around here? I thought you had that _thing_?”

Beca is about to say something about the ‘lovebird’ jibe, when she realizes the hole in Amy’s statement.

“Amy… we came here Chloe’s car.”

Well really it was Pieter’s car, Chloe didn’t have any legal right to it at all, but whatever, like Beca should be getting involved in all this illegality.

“Oh yeah I know, I just left mine here last week.” The Australian grins.

Beca’s speechless, though she had to admit that that was a _seriously_ nice ride. Leaving your car for an entire week outside such a shady establishment seemed like the worst idea in the world though…

“Okay.” Chloe says derisively. “You’re driving yourself home then, good. Night’s over. We got what we came for. Beca, let’s head home. Amy? See you around.”

Beca squeams uncomfortably at the demand. She really did not want to be alone with Chloe right now in a car. The ride home was going to be insurmountably uncomfortable. For both parties. But Beca was still so MAD at her, ugh!

Seeing her reluctance, Chloe tries a different tactic.

“Sooner we’re home, sooner Stacie can get to work on this USB.”

Chloe impatiently remarks. But that’s when Beca realizes something a bit more important. She hesitates and twists the damnable thing between her fingers. She was just so keen to get it back, she hadn’t really considered the implications of Calamity’s findings.

“But there’s nothing on it Chloe, it’s just my useless music.”

Her heart plummets all of a sudden in her chest. Her dad maybe thought he’d saved something on here, but evidently, he hadn’t. Ben Mitchell had always been a bit technologically inept. But perhaps now he’d really screwed himself over with it. No-one ever assumed that not being a tech-nerd will be their death. Unless of course they meant socially, in which case it was a different matter altogether.

Chloe shakes her head.

“No. I don’t believe that. Your dad’s a smart man, smarter than he ever let you know.”

And therein lay their problems.

“Chloe, I don’t know. What if he isn’t _that_ smart?”

Chloe sighs.

“Then we go home and we find out together, okay?”

Beca dimly nods, resigned to her fate. Maybe Ben had encrypted something important on it, somewhere. Though lord knew how he would have done so. Beca certainly had no idea. It could have been in any number of ways! Anyway, she liked the sound of ‘home’. It was a word that she desperately needed to hear, even if it wasn’t completely accurate. Home meant safety, and more importantly a comfortable bed to rest her weary bones. Once again, Beca Mitchell found herself on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.

“Awwwww.”

Amy’s comment interrupts them. Beca lets out a fatigued huff.

“ _Amy!_ ”

“Sorry! Just beginning to see that spray-tan might be good for you after-all.”

Beca feels her face turn bright red, luckily Chloe doesn’t see it.

The ride home is a different sort of awkward than Beca expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back at uni as of tomorrow, I have not idea what this means for my writing schedule... we'll find out I suppose? Anyway thank you or reading, ily ALL.  
> Britishgal  
> oxoxo


	14. Getting Too Old for This S***

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over exhaustion + two mutually pining bisexuals = gay confusion.

#  Getting To Old for This S***

###  Chapter 14

The car ride home had been awkward. It needn’t have been really, but Beca had made it so with her insufferable fuming. It was an unwarranted distraction of immense proportion, considering that Chloe was also trying to deal with Stacie and Bree simultaneously over the car’s Bluetooth. She was _supposed_ to be giving her two colleagues the low down of the night, and she was. But the mercenary’s eyes kept flickering involuntarily to the backseat where the broody DJ sat sulking like a toddler. Chloe had to drag her gaze back to the road more frequently than she would have liked. The occasional orange street lamp illuminated Beca’s deep frown, and in the still of the night Chloe noticed, her sapphire eyes had darkened to the colour of coal. It was unsettling. Chloe can’t stop looking. She somehow manages to grunt at everything her bosses say, but can’t for the life of her verbalise anything coherent to Beca. So, they don’t say anything to eachother at all. Not that Chloe knew exactly what Beca wanted from her. Anyway, like Chloe had mentioned, it was awkward.

When they get out of the car, back at the Bella warehouse Beca doesn’t stop to look at her. Instead, she stoically marches up to the front door without even a glance in Chloe’s direction. It’s kind of a dumb move, Chloe initially thinks. She needs the front door’s code to have a hope of getting inside. But before she can even commit to a sassy comment, Chloe finds that Beca’s been buzzed in, and her eyebrows raise in disbelief. Stacie would never be so kind to her.

“Lagging a bit are we sunshine?”

Stacie Conrad looks at her with some amusement, as Chloe enters the Reception of the Loft. It would be a lie to say the IT tech looked perky, but she did look a hell of a lot more awake than the rest of them. Bree had them working on over-time’s time. Chloe ruefully meets her eyes, she could sleep soundly for the next week at least.

“Just a little.”

Chloe dutifully hands Stacie the USB.

“Thank you kindly.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Beca notices the demanding eye flash Aubrey is sending Beale’s way, and lets the blonde take the ginger off her hands. Chloe moves silently and robotically from her side but for once, Beca genuinely doesn’t care. So much had happened between them tonight, and she was so oblivious of how to handle _any_ of it. But all her energy could now focus on the important things she _should_ be thinking about. Namely her father.

Stacie notices the expectant staring.

“Can I help you?”

“How long will it take?”

Stacie perceptively sighs.

“I’m not sure.”

Trying to find potentially hidden data buried amongst all Beca’s files could take her hours. There could be firewalls, and passwords- Not to mention, that before Stacie could even begin, she needed to scan the whole USB for viruses, worms, every sort of malware that she could imagine _just in case_ those sketchy folks at EVERMOIST fancied on giving the Bella’s a surprise Christmas present. Stacie was always one to exercise caution. This had to be done quickly, sure, but doing so safely was paramount to Bella security.

“It might take some time… that’s even if there’s anything to find on there.”

Beca looks disheartened.

“You’re welcome to keep me company for a bit though, if you’d like. The company would be appreciated.”

It’s a total lie. Stacie worked so much better in silence, but she couldn’t just leave the woman here looking like a lost puppy.

“Yeah. That’s really kind of you, I’d like that.”

She turns to make her way back to her lair on the floor below, highly conscious of the 5”2 shadow that had attached itself to her side. Stacie internally sighs and doesn’t say anything about it. For now looked like she had become the DJ’s keeper, good thing she had a soft-spot for lost causes.

Inside the extravagant IT suite, Beca pulls up a chair and glues herself to the IT woman’s side. She studies the loading screen intensely, eyes burning with a quiet anger that makes Stacie’s heart bleed. Other than the obvious angst though, Beca’s pretty good company. The shorty doesn’t turn to look at her once, doesn’t even ask any questions, which means Stacie can work as quick as she likes! Though, Stacie is 100% certain that Beca understands precisely zero percent of the code she’s working with.

Fifty minutes or so has passed before Stacie speaks again, she’d made some headway, there were no nasties left for her, that was good. And there was definitely something up with these sound files. For one, a couple were password protected, something Beca claims she had no part in creating. Those had taken all of ten minutes to get past, people were always so dumb with their passwords. Also, Ben using his dead wife’s birthday as part of his code was depressing af. Anyhow, she’d just finished analysing the sound files, and this is where it got interesting! They weren’t just sound files, there was something else buried within them! It looked like data from his projects, but it was hard to fucking tell. He’d encrypted the damn files, and without the key… Well the two had just spent 15 minutes waiting for Stacie’s bomb-ass homemade decryption software to run its magic. But the IT tech know this next part could take them hours.

She turns to face Beca, only to catch the girl rapidly nodding-off, and struggling to keep her head up. …Yikes.

 “Perhaps you could… use some rest? Afterall, it’s three AM.”

Beca’s eyes flitter open, she looks at Stacie wounded.

“But you’re awake.”

“Which is fine for me, _I’m_ a night owl. You however, strike me as a morning person.”

Beca was neither of those things. Beca was a mess who had no clearly identifiable sleep schedule. Her body from a noticeably young age had rejected the notion of sleep consistency. And any super-low-functioning body clock she had, had fried since this whole nonsensical shebang had started. She was however, super-exhausted, as Stacie had pointed out.

“Great, another night at Casa de Chloe.”

Stacie sucks in through her teeth.

“That bad, huh?”

“Well to be honest with you, I don’t remember most of yesterday night. Or is it now two nights ago?”

Stacie snorts.

“Yeah, you were pretty hammered.”

Beca looks at her sourly.

“Not that I blame you, of course.” Stacie saves herself. It was fucking funny though.

“No more nightclubs.” Beca vows to herself.

Stacie nods at her.

“On that we can agree on.”

The elevator pings once more, and Aubrey and Chloe sternly emerge.

“How’s the USB?” Chloe asks her. Beca directly, not Stacie, who would be the infinitely more logical person to ask, all things considered.

“The USB? The USB’s good, it could have data on it, apparently. Stacie says it could take a while to decode though, a couple of hours at least.”

Chloe grunts in acknowledgement.

“You should take a nap.”

“That’s what I said!” Stacie chips back in.

“You all should.” Aubrey’s command cuts through all of them, as she wheels into the centre of the room. “Stacie, call your girlfriend, and have her take over.”

Stacie hesitates.

“Boss, I assure you, I’m fine-”

Aubrey speaks a little softer this time.

“This isn’t a punishment Stacie. You’ve been up nearly 20 hours, go get some rest. I have a feeling that tomorrow I’ll need you as bright-eyed as I can.”

Stacie’s quiet a moment. Beca wonders if she’s fearing waking the stubborn latina up.

“Okay, sure.”

There’s the light jangling of her car-keys as Stace picks them up from her desk. Beca frowns as she spots the overly large ladybug keychain attached; it’s plush and cartoonish. And for some reason its goofy stitched grin is unsettling some part of Beca’s stomach. She wonders what that’s about.

“Nothing for you two to see here, off you go.” Aubrey snaps Beca out her day dreams.

“Guess we better listen to the boss woman.” Chloe grumbles.

“Damn right!” Aubrey yells out behind them, as she watches her best-friend walk away.

\----

They enter Chloe’s apartment, again saying very little.  A sort of continuation from their episode in the car, Beca thinks, but it’s slightly more comfortable than that. Like the two have become okay with it not being so now. Stacie departed from them in the hallway, and Beca feels a little lost without her being there. From the most part their gentle interaction had been pleasantly amicable. It was nice just to exist around someone new without feeling trapped, or feeling like they’d be in part responsible for your imminent death. That was one thing she’d learned from all of this. To appreciate the normal a lot more than she could have before. If you could call Stacie and what she did ‘normal’ that was. …It’s odd how quickly she had grown to like the Barden Bella’s, but in a way it’s unsurprising; they were an extremely charismatic bunch afterall. And they’re competition was the far more problematic DSM and Barden underworld.

…She’s so tired. How had Beca only just noticed that? It probably had to do with her being torn away from all the adrenalin producing activity. But maybe it was just because it was 4am. Either way, her brain has just fizzled, all of a sudden. The DJ even doubted her ability to add two and two. She steps over the flat’s threshold, her dress suddenly feeling super uncomfortable. She feels ultra-warm in it in fact, and super sweaty. How high a temperature did Beale set the central heating too? Saying nothing, Beca makes a b-line for Chloe’s bedroom; hoping her clothes were discarded in the same places she had unrulily left them.  The ginger was not the tidiest person she’d ever lived with, and they’d barely had a break since eight this morning so, certainly, the chances had to be in Beca’s favour. Tomorrow she was definitely going to have request some new attire to sleep in, because the top and pants were getting a little too ripe, however. The only thing blocking her from making the request this evening, was her personal pride. Still. At least the tiny brunette would get her own clothes back tomorrow. Chloe washing them earlier for her had bought her way too much happiness.

“Don’t follow me, I’m getting changed!” Beca calls out as she strides down the hall.

A semi-serious attempt at humour, she doesn’t actually expect Chloe to answer her. The mercenary predictably does not. Instead, all Beca hears is the sound of the TV being switched on, and the muffled chatter of what she guesses could be The Late-Night Show. A re-run maybe? Honestly, shows that played at 4am were not ones that she knew anything about.

Flicking on the bedroom light, and almost blinding herself in the process, Beca sees that her clothes are, unsurprisingly, where she’d left them. She snatches the glob of cloth from the floor and marches over to the bathroom.

Where she’s comfortably re-clothed in a matter of minutes.

When Beca exits, she feels a guilty pull of something in her stomach. It feels suspiciously like guilt almost, although over what she isn’t sure. Maybe she could have been… less harsh on the ginger. Also, despite their sleeping arrangements, Chloe’s clothes and only bathroom _were_ located in here… ah. Beca was generating some hold up, probably. That was only slightly awkward, Chloe had to be at least as tired as she was. Okay, she’d go back into the kitchen to tell the ginger that the bathroom was free… But there was no way in hell that she was apologising!

Beca emerges from the hall into the kitchen to find the mercenary already waiting for her. As in, the TV is on in the background, but Chloe isn’t watching it from the comfort on her couch-bed. Instead, she’s leaning against her kitchen counter, and is looking at Beca intensely.

“What?” Beca asks apprehensively.

Chloe’s face is unreadable, tone neutral.

“Are you still mad at me?”

“When am I _not_ mad you.” Beca grumbles as she trudges her way back into the kitchen.

 If they were going to have this talk right now, it should at least be over a cup of tea. In sync with her, Chloe flicks on the kettle. Though, like it was much of an effort for the woman to assist her really, when the cheap thing was located right beside her.  Beca fetches two china mugs from the cupboard.

Chloe sighs, very dramatically. And Beca thinks Chloe’s wall’s might have come down once again long enough to glimpse her in her rare non-android form. All you had to do was drag the ginger beyond the point of exhaustion and she’d open up to you quite willingly. It was a rather simple formula to have figured out, actually.

Chloe swallows uncomfortably.

“I’m…  sorry. About the kiss. I didn’t know you we’re still so wrapped up in Jesse.” The ginger apologetically offers. It’s sincere, in fact she means it fully. Chloe was just _stressed,_ and looking for a little harmless fun. Beca was hot and gay, _Chloe_ was hot and gay… simple maths.

Wait, hold on, she thought this was about Jesse!?! Beca barely had the time to think about their break-up, and considering all that had happened since, she was fairly certain she was over it for the most part. Although they’d see how future her dealt with all that crap afterward. Emotional processing was sort of on her mental back-burner at the moment.  

Chloe interprets her look as indignant, and internally cringes a little.

“Okay, well maybe I did. When I first met you, you did say.” Chloe winces.

Did Chloe mention that she had a thing for formal wear? Because Beca had looked really, really good in that dress… and somehow, she was managing to rock the terrible ensemble of pyjama wear she’d put together for her as well. It was highly unfair to her in her bisexual frustration.

“It’s not about Jesse.” Beca tiredly remarks.

“Then what is this about?”

“It’s-” Beca sighs frustratedly. “It’s about this. It’s about _you,_ or not you I don’t know. Maybe it _is_ about Jesse, in a way, or the sudden decrease in physical contact? Plus, the stress is-”

Chloe smiles, cheeks softly reddening, understanding the brunette a little better with every word.

“And you’re so-” Beca continues, gesturing at her uselessly. Chloe raises a cheeky eyebrow. She was still in her phenomenal formal wear after all.

“Hot?”

“-My bodyguard.” Beca finishes.

Not where she expected the DJ to take it, but Chloe feels herself grin even wider. Was it weird that the light dragging was making her even more attracted to the brunette? Suddenly a terrible idea enters her mind, and the mercenary doesn’t even hesitate in initiating it. When it came to matters of lust, Chloe Beale was one to self-indulge.

“And that kiss was?…” Chloe prompts, voice lowering. Get back on course Mitchell.

Beca swallows, her heart feels like it might leap out of her chest. Was Chloe hitting on her again?

“That kiss was…” _something_. Beca wants to say, but feels her throat close up as the ginger invades her personal space.

**Inappropriate. Wrong. Entirely out of order.**

But none of those terms seem to matter now that ginger’s staring into her goddamn soul, with those endlessly deep eyes.

“Beca…”  Chloe hears herself say. Stretching out a longing hand to delicately trace the younger girl’s arm. It sends a strong shiver through the whole of the brunette’s body. The ginger herself feels sparks crackle up her skeleton.

Was Beca dreaming? Had she fallen asleep on the girl’s double bed somehow? If this was all dream it would make a lot more sense. And Beca could just kiss her then like she so desperately wanted, feel the taste of Chloe’s mouth against hers once more.  God her blue eyes looked stunning, richer in turquoise than a Californian swimming pool.

Oh, she had the hots for Chloe Beale SO bad. And that was all of the unsaid problem. Against all of her better judgement, and despite her common sense screaming at her to leave the kitchen immediately! Beca doesn’t move. Doesn’t shy away as Chloe moves to stand centimetres away from her face. Wow, her heart’s beating so loudly that she can hear her pulse slamming in her ears.

She still stupefied in her crushed-up daze when Chloe’s lips crash into hers.

It’s a much better kiss that the one they shared in the club. That’s the first thing Beca notices, and what a delight that makes it. Anticipation had a habit of making moments like these all the more incredible. She moves to grab Chloe by the waist, pulling her impossibly close, summoning all the strength in her tiny right arm to do so. Chloe releases the tiniest of growls in response and Beca’s driven wild. It’s hungry. It’s _desperate_. Chloe’s energy is about ready to devour her’s entirely, and Beca freely lets it. _Let it burn the pain away of them both._

And honestly, it’s heaven, when the ginger gives a playful nip at her lip, and as her tongue snakes into mouth. There’s a taste of tea now, but a familiar under-something too, something uniquely Chloe. Beca thinks it’s a drug she could easily get hooked on. And after a while, Chloe hand reaches around the back of her head, and lightly tugs on the back of Beca’s hair. The shorter girl feels herself moan in delight. As Chloe’s attention removes itself from her swollen lips to her neck, Beca feels herself groan once more, louder this time, her fingers digging in to Chloe’s back. Her eyes flitter open just long enough to spot the exposed counter, and eyes lighting up, she drags the two over to it.

Chloe pauses in her campaign of Beca's body just long enough for Beca to hop on. Her hands are snaking up Beca’s thighs, seconds later. Beca agreeingly wraps her legs around Chloe’s waist, realising a slight grunt as the ginger’s keenness to soldier on leads her to smack her head on the wall behind.

“Fuck.” Beca growls.

Chloe’s about to open her mouth and apologize, when Beca starts kissing her again, and pulls eagerly at her dress.

Chloe pulls away a second.

“Someone’s keen.”

Beca was here in her goddamn men’s pyjamas and Chloe was dressed up like goddess, so yeah, you could say she was fucking keen.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” Chloe teases.

And Beca feels a wanton hand slide toward her inner thigh.

Chloe grins to herself as she watches the shorter woman’s pupils explode. It was after all, only a fair trade… considering where the brunette’s hands had found themselves earlier that evening.  Beca’s breath quickens. Everything suddenly feels like it’s moving at 100 miles per hour. Her and Chloe were kissing, and that was all fine and dandy. That was safe, something they could dismiss later on. And then there was the real chemistry behind it, some actual lust, bit more complicated but for the most part they could ignore that too if they needed. But then Beca found herself enjoying it all just a little bit more that she should, and _god_ Chloe touching her was amazing.  The thought of Chloe hand’s anywhere inside her too - she releases an involuntary moan and somehow that _lack_ of control, that’s what brings her to her senses.  Her eyelids snap open.

She quickly and aggressively shoves the ginger back. And uncoiling her legs, Beca looks at Chloe in abject horror.

“We can’t!” Beca exclaims.

 As if that somehow is enough to explain everything to the mercenary. Her sudden revelatory 180 would just make perfect sense she hoped… Beca knows that’s stupid really, but the premise of her statement isn’t hard to figure out: _What the hell were they playing at?_

Chloe pulls back from the brunette, confused, but trying to stifle her arousal. She forces a tight-lipped smile, and stays quiet. Hoping to hell for some elaboration on what had just happened?

Beca shakes her head.

 “ _I_ can’t. I’m sorry Chloe, this is a mistake.”

For a moment it’s almost like the ginger is hurt, but then that unreadable mask is back in place, and Beca suddenly can’t _read_ her again. God, just when she thought she knew what Chloe was thinking, damnit! Her righteous anger from earlier is back. And this time for good reason. Beca _told_ Chloe she didn’t want this! That this could never happen again in fact, and yet she’d _still_ made a damn move!

Y’know, Beca wouldn’t be some cheap fuck for the ginger. They were stressed, yes. They both needed the relief, sure. But Beca was more that a one-night stand! Plus, she already had these damnable feelings. Besides, (and this was the most laughable part really), how was Beca even entertaining the thought that the two of them could work? They would _never_ work! Chloe was broken. And Beca was broken, now. _Chloe_ had been the one to break her. Which made this all the more a senseless decision.

Beca hops of the counter in disparagement, and hopes her voice isn’t shaking as she speaks.

“I’m going to bed.” She simply states.

And Chloe once more lets her walk to her bedroom without saying a word.

\----

If Chloe’s brain could just. shut. UP! She feels like screaming in annoyance as she smothers her face with her pillow; but instead, all that comes from her mouth is a quiet groan. Any louder and she was afraid she’d wake-up her temporary flatmate. After the way that Beca had treated her tonight, like she should even _care_ about doing that! Tossing the uncovered bag of duck feathers aside, and hearing the soft smack of it hitting her living room wall; the ginger opens her eyes to take a read of her DVD player: 5:06am. God damn it. She had to be up in less than three hours.

_What the hell had she been thinking?_

It was little more that a self-destructive thought really. A rhetorical question. A thought meant to needlessly chastise herself. She discards it immediately. Wallowing in self-pity never benefitted anyone. Besides, Chloe _had_ known what she’d been thinking. In fact, Chloe had known what she’d thought about the DJ since the moment they’d met. Primarily, it was that Rebecca Mitchell was an extremely attractive woman, and her personality, her _fire_ even more so. She had always had a thing for fighters. Leaders. Winners. And Chloe could sense that Beca was all of these things, whether she was aware of it or not. In fact, she had the potential to be exceptional in whatever field she wanted. Chloe just _knew_ that, somehow. Her gut had been enough to get her through Afghanistan alive; and in life it had been her most valued confidant. Rarely, if ever, was it wrong. So, she certainly didn’t doubt it on this.

There was something else about the brunette too, that made her feel calm. Now _these_ observations were going to lead her to the questions she should have been asking herself, instead of spiralling into self-pity. Like how on Earth did the woman have the power to make her open up? She’d blamed it on the woman’s intoxication the first time… fuck maybe that was the thing. Maybe there was nothing special about her. Maybe it was just that in the moment Chloe had miscalculated. She’d expected the brunette to develop some level of feelings, but never had she expected her own to deepen.

She sighs into the darkness. No, that wasn’t quite it. There was definitely something there between them. Chloe had felt a something ever since the wanna DJ had planted that first kiss on her cheek. The light tingle of electricity that had shivered through her body at the action. Subtle, but just important enough for her to notice it, to want to know more about it. That’s why she’d kissed her at the bar. Not for the mission (entirely), but also because she was curious. But the bar alone, that hadn’t provided enough data for her about their thing, their _chemistry_   Chloe supposed. It had just left her feeling hungrier for the brunette’s touch! Hence the incident in the kitchen. Beca may have been the most annoying client in the history of Chloe’s career, but damn could she kiss.

…She shouldn’t have done it though. Made that move. Beca was right, Chloe had overstepped a mark, and she should have listened to her demands.  But on the other hand, the woman had kissed back, so certainly, this was a thing she’d wanted? Right? Was it? _It’s a little bit more complicated than that and you know it._ For some reason the self-reprimand is snapped at her in Beca’s voice. But did it have to be though? FUCK, Chloe just wanted to sleep. She was sounding like a sexually frustrated teenager, or some character in a cringeworthy rom-com. She restlessly twists in her sweaty sheets, feeling to overheated by all the padding everywhere. …She should probably pick her pillow back up from the floor. Chloe really needed to talk to her charge properly about this. Anyhow, the ginger would make time for that tomorrow, if she even had the energy to do so. _GO TO SLEEP!_ She mentally cries out, thought it’s at least another half hour before her brain finally caves to the demand.

 

\----

 

It’s 10am. Another working day. And although Aubrey Posen did not get the best of slumbers herself last night, she’s almost certain she’s had a better night than Chloe Beale. She’s trying to hide it, but the ginger’s shattered. It didn’t go unnoticed by everyone that she requested an extra shot of expresso in her morning mocha. The only reason two weren’t in there is because Flo had stepped in and actively prevented her adding another double. When she had enquired where Chloe had left her other half, she’d been evasive. Not admitting more to Bree than she’d chosen to let the brunette sleep in. Commander Posen didn’t chastise her for that. She got the distinct impression that the two hanging around eachother so much was leading to the verge of an explosion between them. ‘Cabin fever’ as an ailment would be a major pain to deal with at present. Also, a couple of hours minus their shared ball-and-chain was much appreciated by herself. Aubrey was tense enough without the physical reason for her stress never straying from her eyeline.

It had been a nice couple of hours, and the entire squad had been called to the lounge for their coffee break at 10, though not all of them had answered. Indeed, it seemed that this morning it was just going to be herself, Emily, CR and Chloe. Lily never usually took a break anyhow, and Flo was too busy decoding to make it up here. CR mentioned that she’d take a coffee down to her later, and Stacie wasn’t due back in until 2pm anyhow.

She’s just filling Chloe in on the whereabouts of Jessica and Ashley when the sudden yelling interrupts her.

_“Where the hell did you go?”_

The furious voice of Beca Mitchell belts out from the reception. Aubrey’s actually impressed that Beca’s able to conjure up a threat with any venom behind it, considering her size. Chloe turns with her just as confused as Aubrey, apparently. What was it that pained the bite-sized demon oh-so-much now?

“To work?”

Chloe frowns, surprised. A little irritated that the brunette had managed to maintain being pissed at her even though she’d let her sleep in.

“Oh, you think it’s okay for you to just let me sleep in? When my dad’s missing?”

 _Is that how you treat someone who’s trying to show a little kindness?_ Chloe’s frown deepens.

“It’s my job to look after you, and it’s not easy to baby-sit a walking zombie. The decision was made in interest of your personal safety.”

And it was the right decision, in Aubrey’s opinion. If they actually possessed the time, she would have suggested the ginger take a power-nap herself.

“Miss Mitchell, may I suggest you grab a drink and calm yourself down?”

Aubrey offers firmly from the mercenary’s side. Her eyes flick over to CR and Emily over by the kettle. The two have clearly taken an interest in the drama. The young girl holding a collapsed and soggy dunked-biscuit in her hand. On seeing her glance their way, the two women swiftly turn away, pretending to mind their own business. If only they were better actresses Commander Posen might have actually believed them.

“No!” Beca snaps back. She clearly wasn’t talking to the blonde, so could she just stay out of this?

“Beca, you’re overstepping your authority.” Chloe warns.

“I’m overstepping? I thought you all worked for me! So, you should be taking into account what _I_   want from you!”

Aubrey senses that there’s something more going on here than just Chloe being uncharacteristically thoughtful. The ginger gives Bree a flickering look of irritation, and Aubrey’s quick to register the pressed smile she’s adopted.

“Time out?” The ginger sweetly requests.

“Granted.” Aubrey murmurs. Last thing the Bellas needed was a spectacle. Office gossip was something all her crew enjoyed a little _too_ much.

Chloe marches over to the brunette, and a little more roughly than necessary grabs Beca’s hand, guiding them down the hallway. Beca’s a little shocked when Chloe shoves open the door to Lily’s lab, and antagonistically shoves her inside. Clearly, this hadn’t been thought out in advance because their lab-tech was inside and looking thoroughly flustered.

“We need a second, do you mind?” Chloe humbly requests.

Lily looks at them shocked, blowtorch still burning blue in her grasp. Beca notices her welder’s mask is perched on top of her head, not over her face… really? Lily flicks off the switch, and silently nods her head.  

Chloe sighs.

“Thanks, Lil.”

Lily’s eyes don’t leave Beca’s as she leaves, and she exits through the door backward, as if the first part wasn’t strange enough. Beca’s thoroughly weirded out. The metal door creaks shut with a heavy clang. Leaving the two alone, caged like animals.

Chloe’s quick to round on her now. Anger blazing within her own eyes.

The two have never been as emotionally distant from eachother as Beca feels they are right now. This level of aggression is a step back beyond even their kidnapping days. 

“You do _NOT_ get to treat me or my colleagues like that in our place of work. Do you understand?”

Beca’s momentarily flustered by her ferocity, but manages to meet Chloe’s aggression with her own.

“Well you don’t get to treat me the way you did last night!”

Chloe shakes her head accusingly.

“I’m not the one who walked away from that conversation.”

“Well you sure as hell didn’t do anything to keep it going!”

Chloe sighs dissatisfied. It was 4am, that seemed a legitimate enough reason to have let the DJ go.

“You know what? You want to talk about it? Let talk about it. We’re here, in a room that can contain a major fire and possibly also a minor explosion, so I can’t think of a better place. Have at me Beca, _AGAIN_.”

“ _Why_ did you kiss me?” Beca blurts out. She couldn’t keep it in anymore. The question that had been eating away at her, all day, and all night. She was even up and thinking about it at five bloody AM.

Chloe recoils, momentarily taken aback. So, this wasn’t about her dad after all. Then she huffs.  Because of course, it’s what she should have expected.

“Because I wanted too.” She growls defensively. Annoyed that she’d been lured into a shouting match under false-pretenses.

“Why did you want too?” Beca pushes, and Chloe pauses for just a beat too long.

“Stress relief.”

“I don’t believe you.” Beca answers immediately.

“Well, why did you kiss me back?”

“I asked first.”

“Look, does it matter? You said it was a mistake, right? And it was. I agree with you, it was a terrible lapse in judgement from the both of us. So, it won’t happen again, I promise.”

Beca’s silent a moment. So is Chloe.

“Is that really what you want?” Beca tentatively asks.

Chloe’s about to open her mouth in response when there’s a loud banging on the door.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The noise repeats itself, even more rapid and desperate sounding than before.

Then, Chloe can just make out the excited voice of Emily crying out from the other side.

“Guys! wrap it up and make it to the IT room NOW!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks,
> 
> Sorry this is so late, 3rd year is SO busy oh my goodness! Anyway, have some sexual tension to tide you over, I hope you like it. These middle chapters I'm making up as I go as well, so they take a wee bit longer to write! Anyway as usual, I love it when you comment and leave kudos, both are much appreciated!
> 
> See you soon amigos,
> 
> Britishgal oxoxo


	15. A total lack of manners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will these assholes EVER get the chance to just talk things out?

#  A total lack of manners

###  Chapter 15

“Why did you kiss me?” Beca blurts out. She just… couldn’t keep it in anymore. The question that had been eating away at her, all day, and all night. She was even up and thinking about it at five bloody AM.

Chloe recoils, momentarily taken aback. So, this wasn’t about her dad after all. Then she huffs.  Because of course, it’s what she should have expected.

“Because I wanted too.” She growls defensively. Annoyed that she’d been lured into a shouting match under false-pretence.

“Why did you want too?” Beca pushes, and Chloe pauses for just a beat too long.

“Stress relief.”

“I don’t believe you.” Beca answers immediately.

“Well, why did you kiss me back?”

“I asked first.”

“Look, does it matter? You said it was a mistake, right? And it was. I agree with you, it was a terrible lapse in judgement from both of us. So it won’t happen again. I promise.”

Beca’s silent a moment. So is Chloe.

“Is that really what you want?” Beca tentatively asks.

Chloe’s about to open her mouth in response when there’s a loud banging on the door.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The noise repeats itself, even more rapid and desperate sounding than before.

Then, Chloe can just make out the excited voice of Emily crying out from the other side.

“Guys! Wrap it up and make it to the IT room NOW!”

\----

The exclamation leaves them silent a moment, and deeply conflicted on their next course of action. That is, until Chloe Beale angrily slams her fist into the metal door moments later. She knows it’s okay to do so. She heard the clack of Emily’s heels down the hall moments ago. So at least she didn’t startle anyone important with it. Beca’s reaction, surprised or not, right now really meant diddly-squat.

“God-damnit! _What_ now?” Chloe growls, more meant for herself than Beca. However, the brunette doesn’t seem to take it that way.

“Calm down edgy McGee.”

Chloe hears her charge complain, just barely under her breath.

“Oh, what so all of a sudden you’ve got your shit together again? That’s nice, good for you.” Chloe snaps.

 _Rile me up once you have an excuse to leave_. She was beginning to think the brunette knew no other behaviour. Chloe’s still fuming when she flings the door to the lab open. For once, she would be the one to bail first. She was allowed that, was justified in it. Let’s see how much of a dick the brunette thought she was for the action! All this, just when Chloe thought they were making meaningful emotional headway. The two seemed to get dragged back into whatever shit-storm life had decided to throw at them next every time something like this came up. Beca wordlessly struts past her with ill-hidden pride. She was right about Emily at least because she isn’t outside anymore. That at least told Chloe that they were interrupted for a pretty hefty reason because when Emily Junk forgot her basic manners, you knew that things were bad.

\----

“Beca, Chloe. Glad that the two of you have finally decided to join us.”

“What’s going on?” Beca asks.

“We might have a situation.” Aubrey flatly answers.

“What sort of situation?” Chloe intervenes.

“Uh- not a good one?”

“Definitely, not a good one.” Stacie hums in confirmance, from behind the Bella commander.

There is clear tension in the air. Whatever this was about, everyone is clearly apprehensive about something big. Though beneath it all, the computer whizz sounded almost excited. Beca was familiar with the nerd by now. She knew that meant Stacie was finding something challenging. She supposed for someone like Stacie difficultly WOULD cause delight. It must be frightfully dull sometimes to be a genius.

Beca notices the seated tech frantically tapping away at her keyboard, then she pushes away from her desk, planting herself at the foot of another monitor across the room. This one a displaying a moving red code on black, it was far beyond anything Beca could understand. In fact, it seemed like the genius was working three consoles at once. Then she notices the whole room has gone quiet.  Were they… waiting on the brunette?

Chloe breaks the quiet.

“Aubrey, what’s going on?”

“What’s going on is someone was, _is_ trying to hack our systems.” Stacie answers before her boss can.

On this, Commander Posen does not mind her head-technician taking point. Everything about firewalls, worms, trojan horses, whatever, went far beyond her comprehension.

“Well, why isn’t Flo helping you?” Beca frowns.

“She was. Is. Even spotted a minute hole in my encryption that we patched up just in time to stop the bastards sending in something nasty.” Stacie sighs and lifts her head away from the electronic light. “They’ve dialled their hack back, for now.”

She’s slightly offended on behalf of her girlfriend actually. Flo could more than hold her own here if she wanted too. She takes a long suck from her orange-ginger smoothie. Damn that shit was delicious. Flo was delicious, _and_ a juicing goddess. And hot. Very importantly that last part. Stacie’s mind wanders back to their flat two nights ago.

“Stacie!”

“Sorry! What?”

“Flo?” Aubrey asks this time.

“Right!”

Without taking her eyes from her commander she gestures to the top right corner of the room. It takes Beca only a couple of seconds to realise Stacie clearly held domain over the CCTV.

“Sent her up to get a package.  Some delivery guy came at like 8:00 and I totally forgot to get Junk to pick it up.”

Hehe Junk to handle their junk… how poetic of her.

“In fact, she should be back any minute.”

And true enough, on the computer screen, they can see a calm looking Flo just stepping into the elevator.

The Latina was not expecting to step out and have every-one of her colleagues staring at her so intensely.

“…Hi?”

Her dark eyes flicker questioningly over to meet her sharp girlfriend’s. Stacie shrugs.

“They were just wondering where you were.”

She raises the brown-papered box she’s carrying a little higher in the air for emphasis. The only thing that could make it more unassuming was if someone were to tie a white string around it.

“Junk duty.”

“Wait, is that what you guys call mail pick-up?” The young sniper asks wounded.

“Job-description.”

“Former-Intern.”

Come the embarrassed explanations from CR and Lily.

“Anyway, back to business.” Their commander swiftly orders. Face blushing a little too red to suggest innocence in the name-calling.

“Right, the hacking! So…”

Stacie gives a snap of her fingers, and Flo lets them all get back to being awed by her girlfriend’s incredible brain. Flo herself zones out of the explanation, for she understood well enough what the two had been up to already. Not to mention that personally, the Latina is far more interested in what could be inside this mystery package. It’s neatly stamped and labelled for the Bella base, nothing branded, it’s not clothes or anything ordered by the Bella’s she’s certain, or one of them would have spoken up about it by now. Perhaps it was a gift of a former employer? Or some old-schoolers way of asking for a job? Whomever the sender, Flo carefully unsticks the brown paper, not one for the unnecessary mess. Though as the wrapping hits the floor she can’t help but wince at her thought. Underneath all the packaging she's already dutifully stripped away, lies yet more bubble wrap, and tissue paper, which was kind of irritating in a way. God society was so wasteful, and the world was burning yet no-one seemed to care and-

 “ ** _Jesus!_** ” Flo violently shrieks, tossing the entirety of their unassuming package to the ground. Its contents spill everywhere: thin sheets of white tissue paper, the additional layer of pink-tinged bubble wrap.

The sudden pollution of Stacie’s office space does something to unsettle Chloe’s grudging mind. She could be oddly finicky about the strangest of things and hated any mess she herself hadn't caused. Wait a minute _\- pink-tinged_ bubble wrap?  Warily, Chloe Beale moves to squat in front of their present.

Beca on the other-hand is handling the duo’s human relations.

“Flo?” She asks warily.

The other Bella’s are likely wanting to ask the same question she’s sure of it. The Latina unleashes a flurry of expletives in Spanish, with Beca only managing to interpret maybe every fourth word?  Her language SAT’s weren’t all that great in high school.

“ _Dientes!_ Fuckers! Fuck, I _hate_ teeth!” Flo finally gasps. In English, mostly.

“Teeth!? What!? Are you okay?” Stacie’s finally leapt from her seat and is striding over to her girlfriend’s aid, clearly in protective mode. Flo folds into her embrace, head nuzzled familiarly into the crook of the taller girl’s shoulder. At the movement, Beca can’t help but let her eyes flicker to Chloe, just for a second before she gets a _grip_ on herself. Focus. _Teeth_? Beca feels her heart drop through her stomach. Well, that couldn’t be good.

Chloe winces herself a little when she spots molar number one beneath the bubble-wrap. It wasn’t pink after all, mouth-blood just seemingly made for a good dye. She knew enough about dentistry to know that the bone was adult at least, a minor relief but one none-the-less. She could also leap to guess the name of its owner but daren’t speak his name. Glancing up herself she could see that Beca had already paled. Automatically she finds her mouth opening to say something comforting, but to immense chagrin, nothing comes out. She spots another tooth on the floor, making a grab for it using the relatively clean tissue paper, picking it up by its root.  There’s a clear silver filling present through it’s top. _Gotcha_.

“Stacie, how fast can you get up someone’s dental records?” Aubrey sharply asks.

The ginger can help but feel relieved somewhat at her bosses’ intervention. Being the cool and collected one consistently, was at times exhausting. Particularly when caring for one Beca Mitchell.

“Uh- a maximum of half an hour? I don’t know where I’m gonna do it though. Every computer here is running decryption pro-”

“Lily’s lab, go there now. Flo, you happy to run point in here?”

The Latina weakly nods, looking somewhat relieved already as her girlfriend strides from the room; a silent Lily and the molars in tow.

It’s a terrible time for it, but out of nowhere, Aubrey’s mobile suddenly rings.

“I- apologies to you all, I thought I put it on silent.”

The crew watches their boss read her screen with patience, all trying to ignore the obvious feelings of nervousness that had settled. Chloe takes the interruption to finally ask Beca how she’s coping.

“I’ve been better.” The wanna DJ briefly smiles at her.

Chloe wants to respond by saying that this is a good thing. If they’d decided to send the Bella’s her dad’s teeth, at least they knew they were trying to hold him to ransom. In other words, he was likely still alive. The freshness of the blood was enough of an indicator there. The downside was, this was proof their mystery nemesis also somehow knew about the USB. They could’ve sent the teeth days ago else. Her gut thought is _Calamity_. If anyone knew about a kidnapping, or had a way of finding out about one, it was the wiley club owner. The compensation for selling on knowledge of such a valuable USB would be huge on the black market. Though it would seem from the lack of hacking, that the fucking asshole didn’t even know the value of what it was she was squealing about.    

“Shit.” Chloe swears under her breath. “We got played.”

“What?”

“Calamity, she must’ve tattled. We need to go back to E.V.E.R.M.O.I.S.T.”

“No.” Aubrey cuts in sharply.

“No?” Chloe sputters indignant. “Boss-”

 Commander Posen flips her phone screen to face her top field agent. Eyes blazing with anger.

“We have a more pressing problem.” Bree practically growls, and Chloe’s eyes widen in total shock.

“What are we looking at, exactly?” Beca interjects.

“…It looks like a blown-up caravan.” CR murmurs.

When Aubrey speaks next, her voice has an edge to it. She’s obviously tense, and if Beca knew her better she would also have picked up on the feelings of fear that lay beneath. But she didn’t. Chloe on the other hand, she can read. And to Beca, it seems like the ginger is near ready to explode in fury. 

“It _was_ a caravan …theses are the remains of Chloe’s safe-house.”

Beca squints at the image, but it’s hard to discern where it could be, considering that it’s mostly desert and reddish sand behind. She gives Chloe a questioning side eye to which the mercenary casually shrugs.

“Can’t get much more rural than Colorado.”

“Oh, but there’s more.” The leader of the Bella’s continues grimly. She scrolls the side of her phone left, and in quick succession another blown-up caravan, and what looks like a dilapidated cottage flick onto the screen. By the presence of the river and gators in the background, alongside the confederate flag, Beca can see now where the Florida mug has its origin. 

“That fucking bitch.” Chloe loudly swears. “ _No-one_ should have known about that final house!”

Aubrey tucks her phone back into her pocket.

“You need to get Beca out of here.”

Chloe scoffs.

“What? Why? This is probably the safest place for her to be right now.”

Aubrey sighs.

“If Beca is here, then all of us are in danger too.”

“We’re three stories up. Our windows are bullet-proof, and we have front door that’s re-enforced with steel. I think we’re good.”

“I’m good. You’re good. Maybe Emily too. But what about Stacie? Flo? Lily?” Aubrey huffs in annoyance. “Maybe with Jessica and Ashley here too we’d stand a chance, but without them we don’t.”

“Maybe baby Bella and I… should go somewhere else?” Flo winces. “Cynthia too.”

“No. Stay. This is serious.” Aubrey commands. But her voice softens. “You should know what we’re up against.”

The three women in unison stubbornly set their jaws and nod. Chloe can’t help but feel immensely proud of her colleagues.

“Chloe you need to leave with Beca.” Aubrey sternly orders.

Chloe scoffs at her.

“What? And leave you all here even more vulnerable? No way!”

“You know I’m right.” Aubrey quietly states.

“That’s- it’s a stupid plan, _no_.” Chloe answers resolutely. Besides, where would they even go?

“ _Stop_ thinking as my friend for a moment, and start thinking like a professional.” Aubrey suddenly snaps.

Its such a fast 180 of emotion that Beca almost throws up.

“Wait what?” Beca objects. “Don’t I get a say in this? I don’t want to abandon you all either!”

She surprises herself with her statement ringing true.

The room is silent for a moment. The boss and her right-hand communicating through telepathy or something Beca isn’t so sure. Either way, the aura of the room suggests they’re somehow coming to a consensus. One that Beca doesn’t get to weigh in on, despite her protests.

Eventually, the ginger speaks.

“She’s right.” Chloe unhappily answers. They needed to bug-out.

“Is there anywhere left to hide Beca, that we don’t know about?” Aubrey continues.

“I…” Chloe struggles.

“We’re _desperate_ , Chloe.”

“What about mine?” Beca offers up.

Chloe shakes her head.

“No. If they’ve burned down my safehouses, they’re certainly smart enough to do a background check on you. On your entire extended family also. Possibly even your friends.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Chloe murmers.

“Chloe?” Aubrey prompts again. The mercenary sighs.

“I mean there is one location-”

“Perfect! Don’t tell us where it is.”

“CR I’m going to need you to disable the tracker in Chloe’s new car.”

“You put a TRACKER in my car?”

Aubrey raised a sculpted brow.

“And now I’m disabling it. We can argue about this another time.”

Chloe huffs in frustration.

“Well, when do you want us gone by?”

“ASAP. Maximum half an hour. You have twenty minutes to pack and meet us in the garage, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Chloe mumbles unhappily.

“Beca?”

“I- yes, Aubrey. Sure.”

Though Beca's never been as unsure of anything in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hi, sorry for the late update. Life (university) got it the way, and I got a little distracted. Should be fully ready to complete this epic in the summer. Lordy, it's gonna be a heck of a 100k fic. As usually any kudos, comments, and bookmarks y'all might wanna leave, are extremely motivational. I love hearing from you dope queens. Hope your lives have been treating you spicy and all things nicey.
> 
> Britishgal  
> oxoxo


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